Under Pressure
by Lamminator
Summary: Ian/OC. I'm not sure how I want to summarize this, so just check out the first chapter. It's more or less explained there. Rated for language, violence, and sexual stuff later on...
1. Jack

**A/N:**_Well, I've created a new IanOC story. Don't expect updates too often since I'm posting and writing as I go. (My Beta is on vacation right now, so if there are any mistakes, I apologize.)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Might as well say it now...I work for Ian Howe. 

I needed a job, and he gave it to me. It wasn't exactly the type of job I was looking for, but it certainly paid well. When I first started working for him, about two and a half years ago, I was a secretary of sorts. I had to be the best paid secretary in all of Washington D.C.!

Everyday, I would travel across Downtown D.C. from my apartment to Ian's place of business, which was really a small warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

From the outside, the building was just a warehouse, but on the inside, it was very nice. He obviously had a lot of work done to the place.

The first floor was carpeted in a light blue, with matching painted blue walls, and darker blue furniture. The furniture was made up mostly of couches and chairs; a few small, round, low tables were scattered around. There were two large, rectangular windows along the right wall. I always thought of the first floor as a common room, where anyone could just relax or take a break. I was often found there on my breaks in one of the big, squishy, reclining chairs and watching ESPN Sports Center on the plasma screen attached to the wall in between the windows.

The second floor was slightly similar to the first, but this was where we did work. It was very open...no cubicles here. The floor had the same carpeting as the first floor, but the walls were left white. There were only five of us (not including Ian) who had desks: Shaw and Phil's were to the left and Viktor and Shippen's (I never found out his first name, since 'Shippen' was how he was addressed by everyone) were to the right. My desk was in the corner just to the left of the stairs, so if anyone came in, I wouldn't have to walk too far to greet and help them. Our desks were metal, painted black, while the tops were glass. Black metal cabinets were on either side of the desk and flat screen computers were on top.

Ian had a small office at the back of the building that was furnished with dark woods; his large desk and bookshelf were both finished in dark red. His desk faced out towards the middle of the building with his back to the window. The bookshelf was to his right on the opposite end that the door was, and at the bottom of the shelf was a cabinet that he locked important or expensive things in. He also had a black couch along the wall in front of his desk, and two comfortable black chairs that sat to the side of the desk by the door.

I have to admit that I was a little jealous; I wanted a wooden desk...hitting body parts on wood would seem like hitting a pillow compared to hitting metal.

One more good thing about working in this office was that there was no dress code, really. We just couldn't wear jeans when working, so I wore cargos or khaki pants almost everyday with some sort of polo or V-neck type shirt.

Actually, one other good thing about working for Ian: he was easy on the eyes, I have to admit...very handsome. His shaggy blonde hair and gray-green eyes made him look younger than he actually was...not that he was that old to begin with (only a few years older than me...but never ask me my age). And every time I saw him smile, he made me smile. His English accent got to me at times, too. He always wore button down shirts to the warehouse and always had the first few buttons undone. Occasionally, from my desk, I would just watch him, but was always careful not to be caught staring. Was I crushing on my boss? Probably. But he would never find out...I hoped.

------------------------------------

I was the only one in the building for a few days while Ian, Shaw, Shippen, Phil, and Viktor went on some crazy treasure hunt, which was hidden by the Knight's Templar, a division of the Freemasons. Ian told me he'd rather have me stay behind in case they got into trouble.

"In case you guys get caught and killed?" I had asked him, sarcastically.

"Yeah, something like that." He had replied, grinning slightly.

So I was left behind while they had all the fun. I brooded around the warehouse for the first two days, but I came to the realization that it wasn't so bad...I just didn't have anyone to talk to and sometimes ended up talking to myself.

Don't get me wrong, I do have other friends, but not many...but they all worked in a normal office and I couldn't talk to them whenever I wanted. I considered myself lucky.

After a few days of playing games on my computer and answering the phone at the warehouse, I was going insane with boredom. At least when the guys were there, I had someone to bet on the sports with and play pranks on. (I would bet on a different sport with each guy: Shaw was soccer, Phil was American football, Viktor was ice hockey, and Shippen was rugby. Ian chose not to bet...with me, anyway. I don't know if he bet with the others.)

I was lounging on the couch in my apartment late one night when my cell phone started to ring. Sighing and rolling my eyes, I picked my phone up off of the coffee table as I continued to lie on the couch. The number was unfamiliar, so I answered it tentatively.

"H-Hello?" I asked, lifting the phone to my ear.

"_Jack, it's Ian._" The voice on the other end said.

Yeah, my name's Jack; short for 'Jacquelin'..and 'Jackie' doesn't suit me.

I sat up on the couch.

"Ian? What's up? Where are you calling from?"

"_We're in a little trouble, Jack, and we need your help._"

* * *

**A/N:**_ How was that for a start?_

_Constructive citicism only, please. Flames will be used to help out the pyro side of me to burn marshmellows ('cause it's wicked fun!)._


	2. Grrr!

**A/N:**_ Sorry for the delay...I actually had this written about a week ago, but I didn't have internet connection since our dial-up sucks balls when the weather's bad. Before that my grandfather passed away, so it was pretty hectic around here for a while (I actually held my tears in check during the viewing and the funeral, 'cause I hate crying in front fo people, but when I saw my brother crying at the funeral, he made me start crying...my brother is like one of my heroes)._

_Anywho...on that happy note (note the sarcasm), here's the next chapter! Enjoy!_

* * *

"What sort of trouble?" 

"_Well...we're in D.C., just not where we want to be_." He paused. "_We're in prison_."

I was silent as my mouth dropped open and I just stared at the light green wall across the room from me.

"_Jack, you still there?"_ Ian asked, bringing me back to the situation at hand.

"Y-Yeah, I'm here." I answered, shaking my head slightly.

"_I need you to do something for us_." He then lowered his voice. "_Figure out the layout of this place, so we can make an escape. Either that or find someone to get us the bloody hell out of here_."

"I'll do both first thing in the morning, in case one doesn't work." I answered almost immediately.

"_Do it now_." He practically growled at me.

"I can't. I'm at my apartment and don't have a computer here." I growled back. "How am I supposed to find someone anyway?"

Ian sighed. "_I'm sorry, Jack. I'm just frustrated_." He apologized. "_There's a Rolodex on my desk in the warehouse. You should be able to find some people in there that can help us_."

"Okay, I'll search and do what I can. Call me again tomorrow afternoon...or whenever you can and I'll give you an update." I said.

"_I will. You can count on it_." He said, forcefully. "_Talk to you tomorrow, Jackal_." With that, Ian hung up.

Hitting the button on my phone to hang up also, I looked down at the phone, and yelled at it.

I hated that nickname! The five guys I worked with were the only ones who called me that, and every time they did (and they were within range), I punched them...except Ian, he could fire my ass for doing that. I think Ian was the only one I let get away with calling me that...and not only because he was my boss.

I put my phone back on the coffee table, then leaned back into the couch, bringing my hands up to my face, and rubbed at my eyes.

How the hell was I supposed to do all this?

Standing up from my black couch, I picked up my cell phone, and walked around said couch. Directly behind my couch was a hallway that lead to the bathroom (on the right), my bedroom (on the left, near the end), and my 'work room' (at the very end of the hall). Half of my 'work room' was used as storage, while the other half was where I kept my one friend's paintings; he asked me to store and ship his paintings. He sold his paintings through a website, and since I sat in front of computers all day, he asked for me to help him.

I couldn't exactly say 'no' to a friend who offered me a small percentage of each painting sold...many of which got sold.

Even though I was probably the best paid 'secretary' in D.C. and could have a better apartment, I really couldn't afford it. All my money went to my rent, insurance, electric, water, and paying off my car. Any extra money I had went to CDs or DVDs or something else to furnish my apartment...and occasionally food.

Walking from my living room, I headed back to my bedroom, and set my phone on the nightstand. I walked around my queen-sized bed to close the blinds. Then I stripped off my clothes and put on my pajamas (a pair of gray sweatpants that were about two sizes too big, but extremely comfortable, and a teal camisole), which were laid at the foot of my bed. After I changed, I left the bedroom and headed to the bathroom, where I performed my nightly routine.

Once done in there, I went back to my bedroom, turned down the light green, cotton sheets, and crawled in. Reaching over to my nightstand, I turned off my light, flopped onto my back, and stared at the ceiling for several moments. After a heavy sigh, I turned onto my side, tucking my arms under my head, and attempted to fall asleep.

About every hour, I would wake up for five minutes (more or less), then fall back asleep.

Around five o'clock, I'd had enough of trying to sleep. Growling, I threw back the covers and got out of bed. I rummaged through my closet to find a clean pair of khaki pants, then rummaged through my dresser and found a green polo shirt. Taking my clothes (and clean underwear) into the bathroom, I took a cool, refreshing shower, and got dressed.

Back in my bedroom, I opened the blinds as I went to set my pajamas back on my bed. Walking around to the other side of my bed, I took my cell phone off my nightstand, put it in my pocket, then left the room. At the end of the small hallway, I took a left into my kitchen. There was only enough room in the kitchen for me to open the refrigerator door, then squeak past it if need be...it was a very small kitchen.

After grabbing myself a travel mug and filling with coffee, I wandered back into my living room, and grabbed my keys and messenger bag off the coffee table.

There was no point in sticking around my apartment because I couldn't sleep...and Ian gave me a task to do A.S.A.P. anyway.

Double-checking to make sure I had my keys, phone, and things in my bag, I left my apartment and headed to the parking lot of the apartment complex. I got in my blue Toyota Yaris and drove across D.C. to the warehouse.

When I reached the warehouse, I parked around the back of the building (seeing Ian's blue Saab 9-3 Sport Sedan still there, along with Phil's dark red Audi A8, Viktor's green Land Rover Range Rover, Shippen's silver Mercury Mountaineer, and Shaw's black Chevrolet Corvette), then walked around to the front. After hitting the code for the security system, I had to shuffle through my set of keys to find the one that unlocked the main door. Once I found it, I looked both ways down the street, then let myself in, locked the door immediately behind me, and reset the security system.

Leaning against the door briefly, I sighed, then headed to the left and up the stairs. I tossed my bag on my chair, then switched on my computer as I set my coffee on the desk. Remembering that Ian said the Rolodex was on his desk, I meandered over to his office, and tried to open the door.

When I couldn't get it open, I realized that Ian must have locked it before they left. Rolling my eyes, I went to the nearest desk (which happened to be Viktor's), and shuffled through the drawers looking for some sort of tool I could use to jimmy open Ian's door. Not finding any tools, I took two large paper clips, and unbent them so they were straight.

Going back to the door, I stuck the two straight wires into the keyhole, and shifted them around until the locked clicked open. It took me about five minutes, but I did get it.

Like I said, I was a secretary for about a year and a half after Ian hired me. I was then trained by the guys to become a...spy, of sorts. They taught me how to be stealthy, how to break into a variety of things, how to hack into computers, and to fool a lie detector test, if need be.

* * *

**A/N: **_Boring, right? I'm working on not making it suck...it'll be a rollercoaster ride, that's for sure. If Jack turns into a Mary-Sue, I'm sorry...I'm just writing what my mind gives me._

_Soooo...reviews will be welcomed as long as they aren't flames. If you find mistakes, please let me know, though._

_Oh, and I guess I should say that I don't own Ian (unfortunately) or anything associated with 'National Treasure', so don't sue. I'm just a poor college student with a POS car and no job, so you won't get much from me if you do anyway._


	3. Phone Calls

**A/N:**_ Sorry I took so long to update...a bunch of crap kept coming up, including almost NOT graduating college because my 'professor' typed in the wrong grade. UGH! And I got sucked into reading other ficts. And going to the movies a bunch of times (hee hee...Iron Man. 5 times! And others)._

_Alright. Without further adu..._

* * *

Opening the door to Ian's office, I tossed the unbent paper clips in the trashcan, then went around his desk to look for the Rolodex. I sat in his chair, then looked around the top of the dark red desk for the object. At the far corner of the desk, I found it, so I picked it up, and took it back out to my desk.

At my desk, I opened the Rolodex and flipped through it to get an idea of how he organized it. Names were alphabetical by last name, then first. If there was no human name, it went by the name of the company. There was a brief description of what the person or company did, along with an address and phone number.

I silently thanked Ian for having nice handwriting…for a man.

By the time I had the Rolodex out, my computer was ready. I jumped on the internet and searched for the prison's blueprints.

Amazingly, I actually found them after about two hours. It was hard to tell if they were reliable, but it was the only thing I had.

I minimized the window, then returned my attentions back to the Rolodex. Shuffling through, I found at least four people that could definitely help me (and Ian and crew) out. It all depended on if they were **willing** to help. I wrote down the numbers, so I wouldn't have to search, wasting time.

Reaching for the phone on my desk, I picked up the receiver, then dialed the first number. After getting off the phone with him, he was unwilling to help, saying "the bastard was on his own". If that man were standing in front of me, I would have punched him square in the face, hopefully breaking his nose and jaw. I didn't care who he thought he was; if you insulted my co-workers and boss (all I also considered friends), you'd pay.

Looking down at my notepad for the next number, I dialed, then talked to the next man. He didn't want to help either, but didn't call Ian any names.

Hanging up the phone, I groaned, then took a drink from my travel mug, finishing off the rest of the coffee. Before calling the next person on my list, I got up from my desk, and took the mug to the alcove downstairs to rinse it out. I then went back upstairs and sat behind my desk again.

Once again picking up the phone, I called the next man on the notepad (named Tom Collins…yeah, like the drink), and explained Ian's dilemma. I was half expecting him to curse Ian and hang up, but he didn't…he laughed, actually.

"_So the smart-ass finally got caught_." Tom had said.

I humored him with a laugh, then rolled my eyes. Ian had to be friends with this man in order for Tom to be so casual.

"_Sure, I'll help_." He eventually agreed.

"Great…" I then proceeded to give him all the details I could.

"_How did Howe snag such a devoted woman such as yourself?_" He asked me.

I actually had to think about that one for a moment.

"Oh, I'm not his girlfriend." Unfortunately. "I'm just…a secretary." I said attempting to clear that up.

"_Pity_." Tom mumbled. "_You'd be good for him…anyone_."

I raised an eyebrow…what the hell was that supposed to mean?

"_Are you seeing anyone then?_" He continued to ask me.

My eyes widened. I was being hit on by some guy I'd never met before.

"Excuse me, Mr. Collins, I don't mean to seem rude, but my personal life is none of your concern. And I didn't call to have a chat." I said tersely, but trying not to get angry at him.

"_My apologies, Miss Ferdinand. I didn't mean to offend you_." Tom apologized.

Yeah, I'm sure you didn't. You just wanted to get in my pants…

I didn't say anything, so Tom continued after clearing his throat.

"_So when should I spring Howe?_" He asked.

"As soon as you can would be great." I answered. When Ian called, it sounded like he wanted out…and fast!

"_All right. I will do that_."

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Collins."

"_Oh, please; call me Tom_."

I could almost hear the annoying smirk in his voice. This guy could mean trouble if I ever met him in person.

"Okay, then…thank you, Tom. I'm sure Mr. Howe thanks you as well." I said attempting to keep civility in my voice.

I then hung up the phone before he could say anything else. When I did hang up, a chill ran up my spine. Making a creeped-out sound, I shook my head, then got out of my chair to walk around. I went downstairs to sit in one of the chairs and watch TV for a little while. Sighing, I slouched in the chair.

Watching sports recaps wasn't as fun without money on the table.

I started nodding off after a few minutes, but kept shaking my head, forcing myself to stay awake.

It was about eleven o'clock that morning when my cell phone rang. Taking it out of my pocket, I looked at the number. It looked familiar…

"Hello?" I answered.

"_Jack. What'd you find?_" It was Ian.

"I found someone to get you out." I responded.

"_Who?_"

"Tom Collins."

There was silence on his end.

"Was that a bad move?" I asked.

"_For us, no, but it might have been for you_." He replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I rose my eyebrow again.

"_He likes to use women in order to get what he wants or needs. Just stay away from him, Jack_." He sounded like he wanted to protect me.

"No problem there. He tried to hit on me over the phone, and sounded creepy, anyway." I said, grumbling slightly.

"_Did you call him from the warehouse or your phone?_" he asked.

"The warehouse. I'm not stupid, Ian." I said harsher than I intended.

"_I never said you were_." He said softly_. _"_Just heighten your senses when you leave there. Be careful, and keep a look out_." There he was, being all protective again.

"I will. You guys did teach me how to be stealthy."

"_When did he say he was getting us out?_" Ian asked, changing the subject…thankfully.

"I told him to do it as soon as possible."

"_Okay…go home, Jack. You sound tired_."

"I am. Didn't sleep much last night. But what about you?"

Why did I ask him that…? He was sitting in a jail cell for Pete's sake.

"_I'll be fine. If you told Collins to get us as soon as possible, he'll be here today and we'll be out by tonight_." He answered. "_Oh, go into my office and in the cabinet of the bookshelf is my laptop. Get it and take it home with you. You never know when you'll need a computer_."

"Isn't the cabinet locked?" I asked.

"_Yes, but if you got into my office to get the Rolodex, you shouldn't have any trouble getting into the cabinet."_ Ian reasoned and I thought I heard him chuckle.

I blushed and was very glad that he wasn't there in person at that moment to see it.

"Ahh, yeah…okay." I muttered.

"_See you soon, Jackal_."

"Bye." I wasn't even going to retaliate.

I hung up my phone, stuck it back in my pocket, then turned off the television. Going into the alcove, I grabbed my coffee mug, then headed back upstairs. I shut down my computer and shredded the paper with the four names on it. Shoving my things in my messenger bag and slinging it over my shoulder, I picked up my keys and Ian's Rolodex, then headed back to his office, shoving said keys in my pocket as I went.

In Ian's office, I sat in his chair again, while I put the Rolodex back where I got it. I took off my bag and set it on the chair as I got up to retrieve the unbent paper clips from the trashcan. Kneeling in front of the cabinet of the bookshelf, I stuck the paper clip wires in the lock and twisted them until the door popped open.

Grinning, I took out his laptop, then surveyed the rest of the objects in there to see if I should take anything else…for safekeeping. Nothing looked valuable enough to take with me, so I just closed the door, and got up from the floor.

Going back around his desk, I put the laptop in my bag, then slung my bag strap over my head and headed out the door of the office. I relocked the door and closed it, then went back to my desk.

Picking up my travel mug, I double-checked to make sure I had my keys, bag, and cell phone. Looking around the second floor, I then descended the stairs, and headed to the first floor. I made sure I turned everything off down there, then walked to the main door. Punching in the code for the security system, I left the building, locking the door behind me. Looking up and down the street for anything out of the ordinary, I then turned back to the buttons for the system. Covering the buttons with my left hand (just in case someone was around), I reset the system, then headed around the back of the warehouse to my car and drove back to my apartment.

Once back at my apartment, I practically stumbled through the door because I was so tired. As soon as I was in the door, I tossed my keys and phone to the coffee table in front of my couch and set my bag down on the floor next to it.

Going into my kitchen, I put my travel mug next to the sink, then made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and poured some milk. After my meal, I went down the hall to my bedroom and changed back into my pajamas, then went back out to the couch.

Turning on my television, I wrapped myself in a blanket my mom knitted for me before I moved out of my home state, then laid on the couch to try to catch up on sleep.

* * *

**A/N:**_ Please reaview. It would make my day._


	4. A Visitor With A Story

**A/N: **_Well, here's the next chapter. Yeah, I know it's slow, and it will be for a while, but he action'll come...I swear!_

_((()))((()))((()))_

There was a knocking at my door, which woke me up.

When I had fallen asleep, I had no idea.

Sitting up from my laying position, I looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was almost ten o'clock at night.

I guess I was more tired than I thought.

Sleepily, I got up from the couch, then slung the blanket over the back of the couch, and went to answer the door. Opening it a crack to see who was there, I saw Ian, then after opening the door a little wider I leaned on the frame.

"What are you doing here, Ian?" I asked with a yawn.

I saw his eyes drift down to my chest briefly before looking back up into my eyes. (I was in my camisole pajama top...not something I would normally wear around him.)

"I really don't want to discuss this in the hall. Mind if I come in?" He asked, looking up and down the hall out of the corner of his eyes, and keeping his voice low.

I pushed the door open wider, not moving from the frame, and Ian walked into my apartment. Pushing myself off the frame, I closed the door, then walked back to the couch and took the blanket off. Wrapping it around me again, I sat on the couch and motioned for Ian to sit at the other end.

"You look awful." He stated.

"Thanks, I hadn't noticed...I didn't sleep so well last night, and you just woke me up from a sleep I desperately needed." I grumbled. "So...why are you here?" I asked, turning off the television.

"My place is being watched. I don't know about the others' places and you were the first person I thought of." He explained.

"How exactly did you get out of jail?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We didn't break out, if that's what you're implying." He said.

"So I guess you'll be staying here for a few days, then, huh?"

"If you don't mind."

"As long as you don't mind sleeping on a couch. I don't have a spare bedroom."

Well, he could sleep in my bed...with me...but that wouldn't be right.

"That's fine. I've slept in worse places." He replied with a small grin.

Like a jail cell for instance...?

I grinned back, then had to look away from him. Getting off the couch, I headed to my kitchen.

"Do you want anything to eat or drink?" I called to him in the other room, as I surveyed what I had in my fridge.

"Do you have any alcohol?" Ian countered from the doorway of the kitchen.

He startled me...I didn't even hear him get off the couch.

"What's your poison?" I asked, opening the door to the fridge wider so he could look.

Most of the contents in my refrigerator consisted of alcohol; the top two selves and door were full of different beverages and mixers. My apartment was like the House of Alcohol...no thanks to my artist friend, who demands I make him a drink every time he comes over. I even had a few cases of beer stored in my 'work room'.

"Bloody hell, woman." Ian mumbled, staring at my fridge.

"Yeah, I know." I said with a sigh, leaning on the fridge door.

"Is there any beer in there?" He was still staring into the fridge.

"There's about six different kinds. Down here." I pointed to the door. "Take what you want. I have plenty more where that came from. And I can mix drinks, too, if you want."

"What was your profession before I hired you?" He asked, taking a Samuel Adams out of the door.

"What? You can't tell?" I grinned, looking up at him. "I was a bartender in a few restaurants."

"Hence all the alcohol?"

"Hence all the alcohol...and my friend demands I have some in stock, so it's his fault too."

Leaning over the door, I grabbed a Guinness, then closed it.

"Want any food?" I then asked, twisting the top off the bottle.

"I'm fine, thanks."

Ian also twisted the top off his bottle and held it up. I nodded to the sink, and he tossed the cap in. Walking past him, I went back into the living room, and sat on the couch. Ian followed.

"So, how'd you end up in jail?" I asked, looking at him as I took a swig of my beer.

"It's a long story."

"I have no where to go." I smirked, shrugging, then leaned back into the corner of the couch (where the back and armrest connect).

Ian grinned slightly, then went on to tell what had happened for them to end up in jail. He said Ben Gates (I had met the man briefly before they left) dragged them to the Arctic Circle to find a ship, then came back to D.C. to attempt to steal the Declaration of Independence; unfortunately, Gates got there first. Ian and the guys ended up following Gates to Philadelphia, then up to New York. They met in a church, then went underneath the church through some tunnel system. Ian paused here for a few minutes, staring down at the beer in his hands; his thumb ran along the lip of the bottle.

I leaned forward, frowning, trying to get him to look at me. "What happened?"

He stopped running his thumb on the bottle, then lifted his head to stare at the blank TV screen. He still didn't say anything.

"Ian...you can tell me." I encouraged softly, placing my right hand on his left forearm.

Something bad happened. I could sense it.

Ian closed his eyes, then sighed, shaking his head slowly before he looked over at me.

"Shaw's dead."

"Shit." I mumbled. "I'm so sorry, Ian." Unconsciously, my thumb rubbed his arm slowly.

I didn't know what else to say. Shaw was Ian's right-hand man and a good friend...to both Ian and myself. Shaw taught me how to cheat the lie detector test and would bet on soccer with me. We got into a few friendly arguments because I called it 'soccer' and he called it 'football'. I had told him once that here in the States we called it 'soccer' because football was a completely different sport.

"I am, too." Ian said quietly, then lowered his head again, and looked at where my hand rested on his arm, then back at the bottle.

Taking my hand off his arm, I leaned back against the couch, and waited for him to continue with his story.

After a few deep drinks from the bottle, he continued.

Turned out that Gates gave Ian a false clue, which led them to Boston, where Gates had set them up. The FBI brought them back to a holding cell in D.C., and that's when he called me.

"Fucking Gates." I muttered into the bottle of beer as I lifted it to down the last of the beverage.

"Yeah." He agreed, then also downed the last of his beer.

Standing from the couch, I offered to take Ian's empty bottle into the kitchen. He handed it to me, so I took both bottles, setting them next to the sink.

"So what have you been doing while we've been away?" I heard him call from the other room.

I could tell he wanted to change the subject (if only slightly), and I was more than happy to do so.

"Not much, actually. I went to the warehouse everyday to check on things and used my computer so I could sell my friend's paintings and played games." I replied, walking back into the living room, and retaking my seat on the couch.

"You know, you always talk about your friend's paintings, but I have yet to see them." Ian said, turning his head to me, and raising an eyebrow.

"Would you like to see them? I have a few in the back room. I can also give you the grand tour of this place...which won't take long." I laughed.

Ian nodded, so we both got off the couch, and I led him down the hall behind the couch. As I walked past a door, I pointed to it, and said what it was.

"And here's my work room...if you could call it that." I said, opening the door.

On the right side of the room, half of it housed some cases of beer and liquor, while the other half of the right served as some extra storage space for bigger items like my suitcase and boxes that had no other place to go. To the left of the room were my friend's paintings. I had them in clumps arranged by size, leaning against the wall and each one had a sticky-note on it with a code I came up with so I could find the ones that needed to be sent out.

Ian walked into the room and over to the larger paintings. He carefully pulled them away from the wall one by one and studied each.

"These are very good actually." He commented.

"I'll be sure to tell him next time he stops by." I grinned, folding my arms over my chest, and leaning against the doorframe. "I never would have thought you to be the artsy type." I stated quietly, after a pause, as I watched him.

"I'm not...but I know art when I see it." He said, turning his head to smirk at me.

I rolled my eyes as I nodded.

He set the paintings back, then turned to look at the rest of the room.

"And more alcohol."

"Did I mention that my place was like the House of Alcohol?"

"I'd believe it now if I didn't before."

Pushing myself away from the doorframe, I walked into my bedroom (turning on the light sitting on my nightstand), and into the closet. Reaching up to the top shelf, I grabbed an extra blanket and pillow. When I turned around to head back out to the living room, Ian was leaning against the doorframe just like I was moments ago. I walked up to him and held out the folded blanket and pillow. He took the small stack from me, his hand brushing mine as he did (sending a pleasing shock through my fingers), and nodded once.

"What are you going to do about clothes?" I asked.

I didn't own anything I could lend him...he was too large to fit into even my biggest clothes.

"I've been thinking about that, also." Ian replied. "I'm going to need you to do some sleuthing in the morning."

What...?

"Sorry, I think I just hallucinated...what did you say?" I asked, staring, dumbfounded, at him.

"I'm going to need you to go to my place to see if it's being watched yet." He explained. "Even if it is, you can go in and get some things for me."

"You want me to go into your loft to get clothes for you?"

"And other things."

"Oh, of course." I said, sarcastically, turning my head to look at the other wall.

"Come on, Jack. You're the only one that can go. Anyone else I could send would look suspicious."

"What do you mean?" I looked at him out of the corner of my eye.

"You could go and, if stopped, you could say you were picking some things up."

"And who would I say I am? It'd sound a little odd if I go there and say that I'm picking stuff up for my boss."

"If you do get stopped, just say you're my girlfriend."

_If only..._I thought, raising an eyebrow.

"Or my sister, which ever."

I snorted as I turned my head back to him. "Right." I dragged out the simple word.

"Jacquelin..." He said softly, giving me puppy dog eyes.

I frowned at him. "You've never used my full name before."

Ian looked down at the stack in his hands, so he wouldn't have to look at me. "I'm sure I've said it before."

"Not since I first met you."

Looking at him quizzically for a moment, I noticed that he seemed uncomfortable. I don't think he meant to say my full name, just sort of slipped out. Sighing, I lowered my head, shaking it before I changed back to the subject at hand.

"All right, fine. I'll go to your loft in the morning." I said, bringing a hand up to rub my eyes.

Ian lifted his head to look at me again with a small, forced grin.

"Thanks, Jackal."

"Yeah, yeah. Now get out of my room so I can sleep." I said grinning, then took his shoulders and spun him around, lightly pushed him back towards the couch. "Make yourself comfortable wherever you want. See you in the morning."

I went back into my room and reached for the door. Just before I latched it, I heard Ian say "Good night". Pausing, I thought of keeping my door open, but thought better of it. I latched the door, then leaned my back against it as stared at the ceiling, rolling my head back and forth on the door. After another moment, I pushed myself away from the door, and sauntered over to my bed. Once there, I fell face first onto the mattress, then slowly brought my feet up. I didn't even bother to pull the covers down, just reached down to grab the blanket at the foot of the bed and slung it up over my waist. Turning my head to the side, I realized I had to turn off the light if I was to get anymore sleep. Groaning, I flipped my hands up to push myself high enough to reach the light, then turned it off and flopped back, face first, onto the bed, falling back asleep after a few seconds.

((()))((()))((()))

**A/N: **_More soon!_


	5. You Want Me To Get What?

**A/N:**_ Sorry for the delay. I've been wicked busy the past 2 weeks or so because of presentations for my classes and guy drama [rolls eyes]. So here's an update._

_Enjoy!_

_Oh, there's a language warning for this chapter_

_((()))((()))((()))((()))_

I was once again woken up from my slumber, but this time, it was not a knocking at the door. I felt myself being shaken, then once I started to move, a hand covered my mouth. Sucking in a sharp breath through my nose, my eyes snapped open as I thrashed around for a moment. When I was able to focus, I saw Ian hovering above me, holding a finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet. I stopped moving and nodded, willing my breathing to get back under control. Ian removed his hand.

"Goddamn it, Ian. Fuck off and let me sleep." I cursed at him, pulling a pillow over my head.

"I don't think so, Jack. It's almost eleven; you've been asleep for about twelve hours...and I need clothes. You should be glad I let you sleep this long." He retorted, pulling the pillow away from my head.

Growling, I closed my eyes. When I figured my lingo didn't work, I switched tactics.

"Piss off, you wanker."

I could have sworn I heard him chuckle.

Then I went to snatch my other pillow, but it was gone. Reopening my eyes, I looked over to where Ian was last, and saw him standing next to my bed, both pillows in his hand. I rolled away from him and brought the blanket over my waist up and over my head. Ian tugged on the blanket, but I held fast, not ready to give up yet.

"You so much as tear this blanket, I will personally break every one of your fingers." I threatened.

"Like you could." He shot back, but let go of the blanket.

Lowering the blanket off my head, I glared at him. "Try me." I whispered.

"Not when you're as pissed off as you are now."

"Lucky me." I let the sarcasm drip out of my mouth.

Since I wasn't holding onto the blanket anymore, Ian saw this as the opportunity to steal the blanket away.

"Hey!" I yelled at him, sitting up. "Who invited you in here, anyway?" I asked, rubbing my hands over my face.

"I believe you did."

I scoffed. "In my _apartment_, not my _bedroom_. How do you know if I sleep naked or not?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

Ian raised an eyebrow in return. "I thought I'd take a chance. Besides, I think you'd be smart enough to lock your door when a man," here, he pointed to himself, "is staying in your apartment."

"What if I didn't lock it on purpose?" I paused, thinking about how that sounded, then quickly added to it. "_Or_ what if I was just too tired to lock it?"

"Well, if you were that tired, then why would you bother to strip?"

"Maybe it's the way I like to sleep."

Ian gave me a 'yeah, right' sort of look, then tossed the blanket back on the bed and threw the pillows at my face.

"Does this mean I can go back to sleep?" I asked, putting the pillows back, then flopping back onto them.

"I still need clothes, so not now." He said.

Before I could react, he grabbed my biceps, pulling me up and off the bed, making me gasp, and standing me directly in front of him; he didn't let go of my arms, but he didn't have a tight grip on them either. We were so close, my breasts just grazed his chest as I breathed slightly faster. There were no more than three inches that separated our lips as we locked gazes. I froze, stiffened my body, unable to move...nor did I really want to move, but HAD to or I was going to do something I was going to regret.

Ian's eyes left mine first as I saw them drift to my lips. I had to move fast or something was seriously going to happen.

"I better get ready then." I said softly, stepping back and out of his grasp.

Bowing my head, I quickly walked around Ian and over to my closet, where I pulled out a pair of cargos, then over to my dresser to grab a shirt. Just before I grabbed underwear, I turned my head to see if Ian was watching me. He wasn't; he had his head bowed and a hand over his eyes. Quickly, I snatched up the clean underwear, and headed out of my bedroom and into the bathroom.

Once in the bathroom, I closed the door and locked it. I set my clothes on the toilet seat lid, then walked to stand in front of the sink. Leaning my hands on either side of the sink, I looked at myself in the mirror.

"What the hell are you doing?" I softly asked my reflection.

I let my head hang below my shoulders for a minute before I stepped away from the sink and turned on the shower. I waited for the water to warm up slightly before jumping in and washing up.

After my quick shower, I toweled off and put on my clean clothes. After brushing my teeth and anything else I needed to do, I left the bathroom, and headed back to my bedroom, hoping Ian had left it. Luckily, he wasn't in my bedroom when I got there. Tossing my pajamas onto the bed, I opened the blinds, then slowly headed out to the living room.

Looking over the back of the couch, Ian was laying on his back on the couch, his face in his elbow. Quietly, I passed the couch and walked into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and took out the orange juice container, taking it to the counter (I closed the door with my foot). I took two glasses out of the cupboard and poured the juice into them. Grabbing a granola bar out of the cupboard next to the one that housed the glasses, I put the wrapper between my teeth, and took the glasses of juice into the living room.

I set the glasses on the coffee table, then walked around the table to Ian's feet. I poked his leg, making him drop his arm from his eyes, and lifting his head to look at me. Taking the granola bar out from between my teeth, I opened the wrapper, as I walked back around the table, and took a bite. Picking up one of the glasses, I handed it to Ian, then sat on the floor. I picked up the other glass and took a drink, keeping an eye on Ian.

He sat up on the couch and stared into the glass, not drinking it.

"You all right?" I asked, the bit of granola half-chewed in my mouth.

Ian looked up at me. "Just a little headache." He said with a small, forced grin.

Somehow I knew that wasn't all.

"There's some medicine in the cabinet behind the mirror in the bathroom if you need any." I said, standing from the floor. "Have a list or something of the things you want me to get at your loft?"

"Just call my cell phone when you get there."

"What if the place is bugged?"

He looked down at the table. "Good point. Have scrap paper handy?"

I nodded, setting my glass back on the table. "Need a pen, too?"

That came out a little more sarcastically than I wanted it to.

"Yes, actually."

Rolling my shoulders, I went into the kitchen to get a small piece of paper and the first pen I saw. Coming back into the living room, I handed the objects to Ian. He wrote down a few things, then handed the list to me. Scanning over it, I noticed it was mostly a list of toiletries and clothes with the occasional odd item tossed in the mix...like bullets for example.

"Bullets?" I questioned, glancing up at him from the list.

"Yes." He answered. "Is there some other part to that question?" He smirked, leaning his elbows on his knees.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Why do you need bullets?"

"You can never be too careful." He said simply.

"Fine. Where do you keep them? I don't want to tear your place apart looking for them."

"Second drawer in the nightstand. Everything else you should find easily."

Nodding, I looked back at the list as I picked up my glass to take a drink. Just as some of the juice slid in my mouth, I almost spit it back in as I read the last item on the list: underwear.

I swear I felt my whole face turn red...this was going to be fucking awkward, getting my boss's underwear and all.

"Jack, you okay?" Ian asked, looking at me quizzically.

"You want _me_ to get your underwear?" I countered, eyes wide as saucers.

"I'm sure you've seen boxers before." He was actually smirking at my discomfort.

"Yeah...but not yours!"

So that wasn't exactly true...there was one time at the warehouse where he was squatting at Phil's desk (his was in front of my desk), helping Phil with a small computer problem. I just happened to look up at the wrong time...or the right time, depending on how you want to look at it, and caught a glimpse of Ian's boxer briefs.

"They're just like every other man's boxers, Jack. Don't be such a girl." He said with a chuckle.

Snorting, I tossed the paper onto the table, then drank the last of my juice, rolling my eyes. I took the empty glass out to the kitchen and placed it in the sink. When I walked back into the room, I bent down at the far end of the coffee table and picked up my messenger bag, setting it on the table. Opening it, I took out Ian's laptop and handed it to him. I wasn't going to drag it around with me.

Going over to my front door, I put on my boots, then walked back over to the coffee table. I grabbed my bag, slung it over my head, then picked my keys up. I stuck Ian's list in my pocket with my keys.

"You'll need this." He said, picking his set of keys off the coffee table.

Taking one key off the ring, he handed it to me. I looked down at it questioningly.

"To my loft."

I nodded, then took my keys back out of my pocket and stuck his key on so I wouldn't lose it.

"Want me to get anything else while I'm out?" I asked, heading to the door. "There's food in the kitchen...somewhere. Help yourself."

"Then I think I'll be all right." He said, grinning shortly.

Nodding again, I reached for the doorknob, but halted when Ian called my name. Turning back around, I saw he was standing from the couch, and walking towards me.

"Go to the warehouse first, and get the keys for the Lincoln. Take that to my place. Your car might stand out a little too much." He said, stopping about two feet in front of me.

"Okay. No problem." I replied, forcing a grin.

"And Jack..." Ian had stepped closer and put his hand on my shoulder as I looked up at him questioningly. "Be careful." He said those two words softly.

"I will." I breathed.

We stared into each other's eyes for a few moments before I decided to reach behind me for the doorknob again. I turned the knob, and popped it open a crack.

"I'll be back soon." I said softly, then turned away from him, and headed out the door, closing it behind me.

I leaned against the door for a moment, scrubbing at my face with my hands, and eliciting a low growl. Down the hall, I heard one of my neighbors open their door. I snapped my head in that direction briefly, then pushed myself off the door, went down to the parking lot, and into my car. I started the engine, and drove off to the warehouse.

* * *

**A/N:**_ Sexual Tension, party of 2! Haha! Well, there ya go. Reviews would make my week!_


	6. The Cadillac and Ian's Loft

**A/N:**_ Happy New Year!! Hope everyone's holidays were awesome!_

When I reached the building, I parked around back (as usual). I noticed all the guys' cars were gone except Ian's and Shaw's. I briefly wondered what they were going to do about Shaw's car, then walked to the front of the building. I thought I saw an unfamiliar shiny, dark blue, almost black, Cadillac STS-V parked about a block away, but I ignored it, and unlocked the door after hitting the code for the security system. Once in the warehouse, I locked the door, reset the system, then headed towards the stairs. At the top of the stairs, I went over to my desk and put my bag on the chair. Turning around, I let out a small yelp.

Shippen was standing behind me, his attention was on some sort of book in his hands, but it was still unnerving. My yelp startled him and he looked my way.

"Holy shit!" I said, bringing a hand to my cover my heart. "God, Shippen, where the hell did you come from?"

"Over there." He pointed to Viktor's desk. "Since when do you scream like a girl?"

Did these guys forget that I actually _was_ a woman...?

"I saw an unfamiliar car out front, so I'm a little on edge." I replied.

"Ah, then...what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same."

"I came to get some things."

"I came to get the keys to the MKZ so I can go over to Ian's loft and get things for him."

"Can't he go himself?"

"He thinks the FBI might be watching it."

Shippen nodded, then went back over to Victor's desk.

"Where are Viktor and Phil?" I asked, walking towards Ian's office.

Wherever one was, the other two weren't far behind...I was surprised Shaw wasn't part of it, but he was more likely to be seen with Ian.

"They're down at the bar, waiting for me."

And that's just _one_ of their hangouts.

I had reached Ian's office, so I took two more paper clips off of Viktor's desk and jimmied open the door again.

"I guess you wouldn't accompany me to Ian's then, huh?"

"If you're _that_ jumpy, then I can call the other two and tell them I'd be another few minutes."

"I'd appreciate it." I smiled.

I didn't have any idea why I was so on edge because of that car...I hoped it was nothing, but there was just something about the vehicle that put my senses on high alert.

Walking into Ian's office, I went over to the bookshelf and took the keys to the car out of the small ceramic bowl that sat on the top. Stepping back out of his office, I tossed the keys to Shippen as I locked the door and walked back over to my desk, Shippen following me. I picked up my bag, making sure I had my keys, cell phone, and Ian's list.

"Ready?" I asked Shippen.

"Just have to call the other two." He answered.

"I'll be downstairs."

He nodded, then I went down the stairs and sat on the couch to wait for him. About five minutes later, Shippen came tromping down the stairs. I stood from the couch and walked over to the door, where Shippen was punching in the numbers for the security system. When he nodded to me, I unlocked the door, opened it, and went out.

I immediately looked to where I last saw the mysterious Cadillac...it was still there.

After Shippen closed and locked the door, then reset the system, he turned to me.

"See the dark blue Cadillac STS-V over my shoulder on the other side of the street?" I asked him, not even looking myself.

He glanced over my shoulder to where I said the Cadillac was sitting, then looked back at me with a nod.

"Do you know whose car it is?" I continued to ask.

"It looks familiar, but I don't know who's it is." He replied, taking another quick look.

"Great." I muttered, then went towards the almost new, black Lincoln MKZ with tinted windows parked right in front of the warehouse.

Shippen went over to the driver's side and unlocked the doors. I got in the front seat, and kept my eyes on the Cadillac. When Shippen got in the car, I put on my seatbelt, and waited for him to start the car. After another moment, he did start the vehicle, and started driving. As we passed the Cadillac, I looked over my shoulder to see if it was going to follow...I got a look at the driver, too.

God, was I paranoid.

I didn't see the car follow, so I turned my attention back to the road in front of us.

A few minutes later, Shippen stopped the Lincoln about a block away from Ian's loft and turned off the engine. We watched the place for a few minutes to make sure it was safe, then I got out of the car.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Shippen asked.

"Nah, I think I'll be okay...just don't go anywhere." I responded, leaning down so I could talk to him.

"I wouldn't leave you here." He said with a grin.

"Well, good. 'Cause if you did, see if I bet on the next rugby game with you." I threatened.

Shippen laughed, then I closed the door.

Taking a deep breath, I started my walk up to Ian's loft. I ascended the stairs to the building itself, then, once through the main doors, I meandered to the end of the hall, and up the four flights of stairs to the top floor. At the top, I was slightly out of breath, but it wasn't like I was going to pass out or anything.

Flanking Ian's door were two guys that were very obviously FBI agents, even though they were dressed in civilian clothes. I walked towards them and when I was close enough, the agent closest to me stopped me.

"Excuse me, miss. May I ask what you are doing here?" He asked.

Might as well play out my fantasy...

"This is my boyfriend's place." I said. "I came to pick up a few things I left here last week." I pulled out my keys and flipped to the one Ian gave me, so I could prove it.

"And who is your boyfriend?" The other agent asked, clearly not believing my lie.

"I don't see why that's any of your business." I shot back, frowning at him.

"Oh, it is." He muttered.

"Shut up." The first agent said to his partner, then looked back at me. "You'll have to excuse him. He's new to guard work." He said by a way of explanation.

"Right." I mumbled. "Can I go in now?"

"Yes, but make it quick." The first one said.

I nodded, then stepped around the first agent to get to the door. I put the key in the lock, unlocking the door, then opened it and went in. Closing the door behind me, I glanced around before moving anywhere.

"Wow." I whispered.

I was only here twice before, and both times were Christmas parties, so I didn't get to really see how big the loft was because there were so many people.

Straight ahead of me and slightly to the left was a metal, spiral staircase that lead to Ian's bedroom, surrounded by brick walls on three sides and a full-length, glass window as the wall that looked over the rest of the loft. Beneath the bedroom was the kitchen with windows that looked out to the front of the building. Over to my right was a large living room area with black furniture and red accents. There was a fireplace in the right corner, near the end of the couch. In front of the couch was an entertainment unit that would take up a whole wall in my apartment, and in the unit was a large plasma screen television. Back on my left, in the corner and out of the way, was the bathroom, which was about the size of my bedroom. The whole loft had accents of metal and black everywhere.

Saying I was jealous would have been an understatement.

Taking Ian's list out of my pocket, I slowly walked over to the stairs. I climbed them and paused at the top, surveying the bedroom.

The center point of the room was quite obviously the bed: king-sized with a brown quilt and light blue pillows; it was also low to the ground, no higher than my knees. The floor was carpeted in a light blue that matched the color of the pillows. To the right of the bed was a nightstand with a very simple lamp sitting on it. To the left of the bed was the closet; it was along the wall perpendicular to the one the bed rested against. Then next to the closet (along the same wall) was a chest of drawers.

I stepped into the room and went over to the closet. Opening it, I looked for a bag with a shoulder strap that I could use to put his clothes and such in...I had to jump in order to reach it on the top shelf and almost pulled a box down on my head along with it.

Grumbling, I grabbed a few clothes out of the closet, then sidestepped over to the drawers. I set the bag down, wanting to go through the chest last, and went over to the nightstand. Opening the second drawer, I found the box of bullets and an extra 9mm handgun. It wasn't on the list, but maybe he'd want an extra...or he could give it to me. I took the box and gun back over to the bag and wrapped both up in a shirt, sticking it near the bottom of the bag, on top of a pair of shoes. Once those were safely packed, I stood in front of the dresser, my hands on my hips.

"Now or never." I sighed, reaching for the top drawer.

In the drawer were socks, boxers, and boxer briefs. I grabbed some pairs of socks, then some boxers and boxer briefs. As I picked up the top two, I felt my cheeks heat up...I was just glad I was the only one in the room. I paused, leaning my elbows on the edge of the drawer, bringing my right hand up to my head, and laughed shortly.

"Damn, I'm being ridiculous." I said to myself.

I tossed the two pairs into the bag on the floor; the normal boxer pair was a plaid blue design and the boxer brief pair I picked up was gray. (If he was planning on staying at my apartment longer than that, he could just use my damn washing machine.) Closing the drawer, I zipped the bag about half way, then picked it up, and took it with me back down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, I looked back at the list, mentally crossing off the items I already picked up, then walked into the kitchen, where I went on a hunt for a...water bottle? God, he even wrote a description of it: 'see-through blue bottle with lime green lid'.

Son of a bitch. Why'd he need _this_ water bottle?

Sighing and growling at the same time, I opened almost every cabinet in the kitchen looking for the fucking water bottle. Once I had _all_ of the cabinets open, I stood in the middle of the kitchen and slowly turned, scanning each cabinet. I growled loudly in frustration and took my cell phone out of my pocket. Just as I was about to dial Ian's number (I could have cared less if the place was bugged!) to ask where the damn thing was, an idea struck me.

"Dumbass." I chastised myself.

Going over to the fridge, I opened it, and saw the bottle in the back. There was some sort of separated liquid in it, but I wasn't sure if I should dump it or not...for all I knew, he could be some mad scientist and forgot to tell me.

I took the bottle out, then closed the door. Walking around the kitchen, I closed the cabinets, then headed to the bathroom, where I picked up the toiletries on his list. Shoving them in the bag, I zipped it up, and headed to the door. After one last look around, I opened the door, and stepped out.

As I was locking the door, I felt both of the FBI agents look at me. I glanced at the one to my left first (the 'rookie'), then switched over to the one on my right. Backing up a few steps, I gave them a small, fake grin.

"Thanks for letting me in." I said in false sweetness, then turned, and walked back towards the stairs. After about five yards, I turned back to the agents. "Oh, you _have _been informed that Ian Howe has been released, right?"

The two exchanged a glance before looking back at me.

"And how would you know that?" The rookie asked me.

"I told you. I'm his girlfriend, you think he wouldn't tell me?"

"Then where is he?"

"Visiting friends and family."

What? I was a friend. That wasn't a complete lie...just not the kind of friend I wanted to be to him.

"Then why are you here?"

"Again, I told you. Do you have a short-term memory?" I sort of glared at him. Maybe that wasn't such a good thing to say to a guy carrying a gun. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some other errands to run." I then turned on my heel and started walking back to the stairs, Ian's bag on my shoulder.

When I reached the stairs, I heard the more experienced guy speak to someone on a cell phone.

"Was Howe released?...Then why weren't we informed?...Yeah, fine...Okay..." He hung up the phone and I heard him mutter: "Fuckers."

Obviously, they weren't informed.

Smiling to myself, I went down the four flights of stairs, then walked out the front door. Descending the stairs of the building, I was still smiling, almost laughing, but once I hit the bottom of the stairs and glanced down the right side of the street, all traces of my smile and humor left my body.

The Cadillac was sitting about half a block down the street.

Turning to my left, I swiftly walked towards the Lincoln and Shippen. When I reached the vehicle, I quickly opened the door and got in, taking Ian's bag off my shoulder and setting it on the floor in between my feet.

"Let's get the hell out of here." I said, feeling my voice shake, as I stared at the Cadillac.

"What's wrong?" Shippen asked, looking at me with a confused look.

"The Cadillac's here." I said, nodding towards the car.

"Shit." He mumbled, then started the car.

We drove off, and headed back to the warehouse. I constantly kept looking around, watching for that fucking car to show up.

Yeah, I was a little paranoid now.

When we got back to the warehouse, Shippen parked the Lincoln back out front in the same spot where it last sat. I didn't get out right away.

"Thanks for going with me." I said to Shippen.

My voice wasn't as shaky as it was before, but I could still detect a hint of shakiness in it.

"No problem." He replied. "Just tell Ian about that car. Maybe he'll know whose it is."

"I will." I answered. "Tell the other two that I say not to get too wasted, shit face-ted."

One of our favorite phrases when it came to drinking and bars was 'wasted, shit face-ted', as in 'get so drunk you can't see straight'...or in this case, not to get too drunk.

Shippen laughed. "I'll tell them, but I don't know if they'll listen." He then handed me the keys to the car.

Nodding, I snorted softly, then grabbed my messenger bag, slinging it over my head, and picked up Ian's bag. I then took the keys from Shippen's hand. We both got out of the car, then locked it.

"I guess I'll see you later." I said, putting the strap of Ian's bag on my shoulder.

"Tomorrow, maybe. Depends on how things end up today." He grinned, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the bar.

I let out a chuckle, then we both went our separate ways; I headed around the back of the warehouse to my car, while Shippen walked down the street a small way to get into his Mountaineer.

Once Shippen was out of my eyesight, I sprinted as quietly and as quickly as I could to my car. At my car, I pulled my keys quickly out of my pocket, unlocked the door, and got in. I put both bags on the passenger's seat, then started the engine.

* * *

**A/N: **_Any thoughts on who was in the Cadillac?_

_Only one review for the last chapter? That makes me sad. How about we try for two, yeah? Thanks!_

* * *


	7. Paranoid Much

**A/N: **_Well, hello again. Apologies for not updating for almost a year. I'm really sorry about that. I don't know what happened over the summer, but this past college semester kicked my ass (film projects due almost every week, 3 documentaries, papers and tests gallore! And I've been helping a classmate with his James Bond spoof movie.) Now the semester's over and I'm free for a whole month! Woot! So more updates should be expected._

* * *

Driving as fast as I could (while abiding by the traffic laws, besides breaking the speed limit by about fifteen miles per hour), I got back to my apartment in record time.

Once, when I looked in the rear view mirror, I thought I saw the Cadillac behind me, but that could have just been my mind playing tricks on me.

When I parked the car in the parking lot of my building, I gathered both bags on my shoulders, got out of the car (locking it), then ran into the building. I ran up the stairs to the third floor, then ran to the end the hall to where my apartment was. Flipping through my keys, I found the one for my door, and unlocked it. I threw open the door, then practically slammed it behind me, and leaned against it, catching my breath. Dropping the bags where I stood, I then ran over to the window in my kitchen; it was the only one that faced out to the front of the building. Looking out of the window, I watched for a while to see if the Cadillac would pull up within my vision.

"Jack?" I heard Ian call from down my small hallway.

"Yeah, it's me." I answered, not moving away from the window, my breathing still irregular.

"What are you doing?" He was closer, so I turned my head slightly to see him standing at the entrance to the kitchen.

"Watching." I said simply, turning back to the window.

Another moment later, and I saw the dark blue Cadillac slowly drive down the street, then pause right in front of the building.

"Bloody son of a fucking bitch." I murmured.

Several seconds after the car stopped, it rolled slowly again, and out of my view.

I moved to the wall next to the window, and leaned my back against it, eventually sliding down. My mouth dropped open a little as I stared at the spot where the cabinets met the floor in front of me; the color probably drained from my face, also.

"Are you all right?" Ian asked.

I didn't answer.

"Jack?"

Nope, not that time either.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ian walk into the kitchen. He then moved into my view, and kneeled on the floor in front of me.

"Jack, what is it?" He demanded softly, putting his hands on my shoulders. "I've never seen you like this." He mumbled.

Once more, I didn't say anything, just kept staring...except now I was staring at Ian's chest, not the floor and cabinet.

"Look at me." He said gently, moving his hands from my shoulders to cradle my face.

After a quick moment, I slowly lifted my eyes to meet his. My breath caught in my throat briefly...I'd never seen him look at me like that before; his gaze was so intense.

"What's going on?" Ian asked.

"I-I...I...I..." I bumbled.

MORON! I closed my eyes for a moment as I sighed, then reopened them, gazing back at Ian.

"I...I think I'm being followed." I finally said, quietly.

Ian's hands dropped from my face to where my neck met my shoulders.

"Do you know who?" He asked.

"No, he was in a car. A dark blue Cadillac STS-V." I answered.

Something in his eyes changed, like he knew the car I was talking about.

"Do you know the car?" I asked.

"Did you see the driver?" He countered, answering my question with his own.

I closed my eyes again, trying to remember what the guy looked like. "He had short, dark hair. A goatee. I think dark eyes, but they were hard to see." I answered slowly, then opened my eyes again.

Ian was looking at the wall, near my waist, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Do you know him?" I asked, tilting my head to the side.

He brought his gaze back up to me. "It's Tom." He said, letting his hands slide down and off my arms.

"Tom?...Tom Collins?" I questioned.

Ian nodded.

"Bloody fucking hell." I cursed. "What now?"

"We keep a look out for him. If he comes back, and sits out front, we're getting out of here." He said.

"And go where?"

"Possibly the warehouse. He knows where the rest of us live."

"Oh, that makes me feel a lot better." I said sarcastically.

"Good. It should." He replied, also sarcastically...just not as sarcastically as me. "Now...where's my stuff?" He asked, standing up from the floor.

"By the front door." I responded.

Ian held his hands down, offering to help me off the floor. Glancing from his face to his hands, I reached up, and took his proffered hands. His fingers slowly closed over my hands, then he lifted me to my feet.

"Are you all right now?" Ian asked softly, not letting go of my hands.

"For now...I think." I answered, forcing a short grin.

Looking down for a moment, I saw Ian's thumb run over the back of my hand.

Funny, I didn't even feel it.

Casually, I pulled my hands out of his, then sidestepped him, and walked out of the kitchen, leaving him there.

In the living room, I brought my hands to my eyes and rubbed them as I went over to the door to pick up both bags. I brought the bags over to the coffee table; I set mine on the floor where I normally stash it, while I placed Ian's on the table. I then sat on the far side of the couch, untying my boots and kicking them off, then bringing my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.

Ian walked into the room, just as I was sitting on the couch. He sat on the far end of the couch, as he picked up his bag, unzipping it.

"Did you find everything okay?" He asked, looking over at me.

"For the most part. It took me about five minutes to find that damn water bottle." I pulled the list out of my pocket. "'See-through, blue bottle with lime green lid?' What's so great about _that_ bottle?" I asked, looking from the list to him.

"It's...lucky." He said, taking the bottle in question out of the bag.

I snorted, then released my knees. "If that's the case, then you should have taken it with you. Then maybe you wouldn't have been arrested."

"It's not exactly lucky, per say. More like...sentimental." Ian admitted.

"How so?"

"I...can't tell you."

I nodded, thinking maybe it was either too personal or had something to do with Shaw, so I didn't press the matter.

"Maybe one day I'll tell you. Just not now."

Again, I nodded, then crumpled the list, tossing it to the table. If he didn't want to tell me, that was fine with me, I wasn't going to pry. "Oh, I wasn't sure if I should dump out whatever is in that bottle or not. I couldn't tell what it was."

"It could probably be dumped out. I don't even remember what was in here." Ian replied.

"Well, I wasn't sure if by some chance you turned into a mad scientist, so I didn't do anything with it." I grinned, leaning back into the couch, sighing, and closing my eyes. While I was trying to forget about the Cadillac, I heard Ian shuffle through the bag, then groan.

"What?" I asked, not bothering to open my eyes.

"You had to grab these boxers?" He asked.

I grinned, not opening my eyes. "I just took the two on the top. I wasn't about to dig through the drawer to find the pair I thought you'd want."

He groaned again, then I heard more shuffling. Several seconds later, I heard a _thump_ as something fell out onto the floor. I finally opened my eyes and looked to the floor. The 9mm handgun I had wrapped in a shirt was sitting there.

Ian bent over to pick up the weapon, then looked back at me, raising an eyebrow.

"You can never be too careful." I said, throwing his own words back at him, with a grin.

"Right, well, thanks for getting everything."

"No problem."

"Was it being watched?" He asked, putting the gun back in the bag, then setting the bag itself on the floor next to the couch.

"If you could call _that_ 'being watched'." I replied, using air quotes.

Ian gave me a questioning look.

"There were only two guys there, probably FBI. One was definitely a rookie, while the other was possibly a veteran, a year or two with the Bureau. I don't think they'd put their top and more experienced agents on as guards to make sure you don't go back to your place." I said, getting off the couch and walking back to the kitchen. "As I was leaving, I asked if they knew you were released. At the top of the stairs, I heard the veteran on the phone with someone. Apparently, they were left out of that loop." I had to yell a little so he could still hear me.

In the kitchen, I grabbed a glass out of the cabinet above the sink, and filled it with water.

"So they might be gone soon?" Ian asked from the couch.

"Maybe...then maybe I could have my apartment back." I joked, walking back into the living room.

Not that I wanted him out.

"Sick of me already?"

"No, you're good company. Better than some guests I've had, anyway." I smirked, sitting back on the couch, cradling the glass in my hands.

That was true. I've had my share of drunken friends stay some nights, making it impossible for me to sleep.

"So, what now?" I sighed.

"We stay here and keep an eye out for Collins." He answered. "We'll go to the warehouse tomorrow. Let the others know what's going on."

"Okay...I'm sure I can find something to keep me busy." I said, running a hand through my hair.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ian look at me, but when I turned my head to look at him, he looked somewhere else.

Taking a long drink of water from the glass, I got up from the couch (again), then walked around the back, leaning on it for a moment.

"If you want, you can watch TV or whatever. I have a small selection of DVDs next to the television. Make yourself at home, I guess. I'll be in the back room." I said, pointing down the hall.

"Okay, thanks." He said softly, still not looking at me.

I watched him for a moment with a raised eyebrow, but stepped away from the couch and walked down the hall to my workroom, taking my water with me.

* * *

**A/N: **_Hmm...maybe she's overreacting a bit with this Cadillac...but come on, if you were being stalked, you'd be freaking out too. Admit it._

_So there you have it. Now let me have it...with your reviews. More updates soon._


	8. The Rolling Stones

**A/N: **_So, I lied when I said I'd update more often. My bad. I got really lazy...and I kinda forgot about this for a while there. Other things have been on my mind._

_I'm on spring break right now and later today I leave for Manila in the Philippines to visit my cousins who are over there for work. I'm excited!...just not looking forward to the 20 plus hour flight and an extremely long layover in Detroit (it's a more than 12 layover). I have a feeling I'll get to know the Detroit Metro Airport very well..._

_Anywho, I decided to update before I leave, so here you go! Enjoy!_

* * *

Walking into the room, I made my way over to the far wall, being careful not to step on any paintings or any of my shit that littered the floor. Attached to the wall by L-brackets was a short, wooden shelf, where one of my CD players sat. I turned it on, not really caring what CD was in there, then hit the play button, then the randomize button. When the Rolling Stone's "Beast of Burden" started playing (I guess it was a Stones CD), I slowly grinned, then turned back to the middle of the room.

"I'll never be your beast of burden..." I started singing softly as I walked over to the paintings.

I picked up the clipboard I used to keep track of my code from next to the pile of the smallest paintings, an updated list of the paintings' statuses attached to it. Then I planted myself on the floor in front of them, crossing my legs underneath me, and setting my glass on a hardcover book on the floor. Picking up the first painting, I checked the sticky-note, then looked down my list to find it, seeing if it was sold, on hold, or even being looked at. I marked the status as I continued to sing.

"...All I want is for you to make love to me..."

I paused, glanced up at the wall, and laughed shortly as I thought of that lyric. Glancing out the door, and down the hall, I wondered if Ian heard that...and if he heard it come out of my mouth. Shaking my head, I went back to the paintings to check on their status.

About ten minutes later (and two more songs from the Stones), I came across a painting that I didn't have any status for. I double-checked the list just to make sure, then sighed as I set the clipboard on the floor next to me.

I needed that information, but I couldn't get to the warehouse. Ian probably wouldn't let me go, anyway.

Ian had me bring his laptop to my apartment; I could use that to check on the painting.

Duh! Corporal Dumbass strikes again!

"Hey, Ian?" I called from where I sat.

"Yeah?" He called back.

"Could I borrow your laptop?"

"Sure."

"Mkay...where'd you put it?"

I got up off the floor and walked out of the room, back into the living room, where Ian was still on the couch; this time watching television.

"It's right here." He still called, not realizing that I was practically right behind him.

"You don't have to yell." I said, standing behind the couch. "Do you have wireless internet on there?" I pointed to the device.

"If you can find a signal." He answered, picking the computer up and handing it to me.

I took it from his hands, then set it on the back of the couch, opened the lid, and turned it on. It needed a password at one point in start up.

I cleared my throat, so Ian would look back at me. When he did, I turned the computer to him.

"Password, please." I said.

"Did you even try?" He asked, smirking slightly.

"Why would I do that when you're right here?"

"I thought you could hack?"

"Who said I couldn't? I'm just lazy today."

"All right. Fine." He sighed dramatically, then typed in the password...which I missed, since I wasn't looking when he typed.

"Thank you." I said quietly, turning the computer back so I could see it. "Nice background." I mumbled, seeing that it was an almost postcard perfect picture of Parliament and Big Ben from across the Thames in London, England.

Ian turned his head slightly away from the television to grin at me.

"A little reminder of home?" I asked, pulling up the window for internet access. Not getting a signal from the spot on the back of the couch, I picked up the computer, holding it on my left forearm, and wandered around the room, trying to find a signal.

"I'm from Sheffield, not London. And you know that." He answered, watching me walk around.

"I _do_ know that, but you don't have a picture of Sheffield as your background. And I said 'a little reminder', meaning that it wasn't exactly home." I replied, still wandering around.

I was at the front door and not getting a signal, so I slowly walked towards the kitchen via the front of the couch. I got a very quick, weak signal when I was in front of Ian, but it disappeared just as quickly. Still walking towards the kitchen, I couldn't find a signal anywhere, except for that spot in front of Ian. When I reached the kitchen, I walked in with the laptop, and circled the room, making sure to get to every inch of that room. Walking by the window, I couldn't help but look out, searching for Collins' Cadillac. I looked up and down the street as far as I could to find the car, but didn't see it.

"Jack?" I heard Ian call from the other room, making me jump, and almost drop the laptop. "You okay?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine." I responded, taking one last look out of the window.

"I guess you didn't hear me then." He stated, as I started to walk out of the kitchen.

"No, sorry. I didn't. What'd you say?"

"Did you find a signal yet?"

"Nope, haven't found one."

I walked back towards Ian to see if I could get that weak signal again. Walking behind the couch, I saw that the signal flashed a bar, then kept disappearing and reappearing before I walked up to the back of the couch, where the signal stayed, and I got another bar…and I was directly behind Ian. Setting the laptop on the back of the couch, I accidentally hit Ian in the back of the head with the top of the machine. He jerked his head forward as he turned to look back at me.

"What are you doing?" He asked, rubbing his head.

"Sorry about that." I apologized softly. "This is the only spot where I can get any sort of signal."

Picking up the laptop again, I held it over Ian's head, and got yet another bar.

Ian looked at the laptop above his head with a slightly worried look, then looked back at me.

"I'm not going to drop it, if that's what you're thinking. The best signal I can get is right where you're sitting." I said, pulling the computer back to me, resting it on the back of the couch. "Now, you can either take the computer and help me out, or I'm sitting on your lap."

Oh, God how I would have killed to do that...

"Are those my only choices?" He asked with a small grin.

"Or you could move."

"I'm comfortable here. Give me the laptop."

Damn. I knew I wouldn't get to sit on his lap.

Handing him the laptop, I looked over his shoulder as he got four bars, and access to the internet.

"So what am I looking for?" He asked.

I told him the web address to get to the site for my friend's paintings. While waiting for the page to load, I crossed my arms on the back of the couch. I was close to Ian, which was a bad thing in this case; I could smell him and it was sending my senses into a frenzy. It wasn't overpowering, but it was pleasant and enough to make me unfocused.

Shaking my head, I looked back at the screen to see the page had loaded. Again, I told Ian what to do, as I lowered my head and rested it on my arms. I sighed softly, waiting for the computer. Out of the corner of my eye (since I was staring at the screen), I saw Ian's shoulders rise as he took a deep breath, then he let it out slowly with a shiver. Briefly, I wondered what that was about, since I'd never seen him shiver after a sigh, but chose to ignore it.

"Okay, what's the painting's number in your code?" He asked, bringing my mind back to what was at hand.

"Oh, uh...I have to get my clipboard." I said, then speedily walked down the hall to the back room.

Picking up the clipboard from the floor, I looked at the CD player, thinking about turning it off, but just let it run. I was going to be back in the room in a few minutes, anyway. "Under My Thumb" was playing at that point, so I started humming it as I walked back down the hallway, where I leaned on the couch, again.

"Okay, painting number five three seven, dash four four nine, dash one six two." I said, reading off the number on my clipboard, then looked through my list to see if there were any others that I needed to look up.

After another few seconds, Ian turned his head slightly to look at me. "Is it blue in color?"

"Um, yeah. Dark blue on the left and light blue on the right, I believe." I replied, looking up.

When I looked up, all other trace of thought left my mind. I must have been leaning further over the couch than I thought; Ian's nose was about an inch away from mine, and I was staring into his gray-green eyes as he stared right back into my light blue ones.

Before I was tempted to do something incredibly stupid, I pulled my head back, then looked at the computer for the information on the painting.

"Did you find it?" I asked softly, getting both our attentions back to the task.

I swear my cheeks were tinted pink at that time.

Ian cleared his throat as he looked back at the computer. "Yeah, I believe so."

I nodded a little hesitantly, then looked for the painting on my list. Finding it, I wrote down the information, then pinched the bridge of my nose briefly.

"All right. I got it. Thanks. Just keep the computer handy in case I find another one I don't have information for." I said, standing up straight and looking at the clipboard, so I wouldn't have to look at Ian.

Walking back to the paintings, I mumbled a "God" as I tossed the clipboard to the floor. Picking up the glass of water, I took a long drink from it. I sat on the floor again, then went back to checking on the paintings, but...I couldn't. I just couldn't get my mind back on those paintings. Turning my head to look down the hall, I glanced at Ian. His scent was never going to leave my mind, and that was just part of the problem.

I stood from the floor and stumbled over to my CD player. Turning up the volume in between songs, I almost went deaf when the guitar for "Start Me Up" blared in my ear. Covering my ear (and yelping in pain), I quickly stepped back from the player, and tripped over a box that was low to the ground. I went tumbling backwards onto the floor, hitting my right elbow on the corner of a case of beer.

"Son of a bitch!" I cursed loudly, lying on my back on the floor.

I brought my elbow up to look at it...good thing the skin wasn't broken. It just hurt like a motherfucker.

"Jack, are you all right?"

Ian was standing in the doorway, looking down at me. I tilted my head back, so I could look at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I answered, rubbing my elbow profusely. "Could you turn down volume on the CD player, though, please?" I asked, pointing to the player.

Ian walked into the room, stepping over me and boxes, and went over to the CD player, turning the volume down.

"Ah, thank you." I said, lowering my arm.

"What happened?" Ian asked, walking next to me and kneeling at my side.

"I turned the volume up to high, which blasted a guitar in my ear. I stepped back and took a little tumble over a box, hitting my elbow on this." I explained and pointed to the offending beer case.

Ian shook his head slowly. "Seems to me like you have too much beer."

"Like I said, it's not exactly my fault. I just have too much shit laying around." I defended, sitting up.

"That too." He smirked.

"Ha ha." I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"Will you be all right?" Ian asked after a few moments.

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Okay...I have to check some e-mail while there's still a signal." He said, stumbling over the words a little.

I nodded, then Ian stood and walked out of the room, back to the couch.

When I saw that he was back on the couch, I spun towards the paintings and picked up the clipboard again. Setting it on my lap, I scrubbed at my face with my hands a few times, then sighed deeply.

"Okay, back to work." I muttered.

And I did just that.

* * *

**A/N****:**_ Okie dokie. There you go. That should keep you satisfied...until I next update, anyway._

_I'd be awesome to let me know what you think. (I think this kinda seemed like a filler chapter to me...)_


	9. Pizza

**A/N: **_I don't really have any excuse for my laziness. Enjoy what you can!_

* * *

About two hours later, I finished checking every painting. I tossed the clipboard near the corner of the room, then stood up. My back was stiff from sitting so long and needed to be cracked.

Walking out into the hall, I stood a few feet away from the wall with my back to it. Leaning back, I crawled my hands down the wall until I was stretched and my back was cracked. Crawling my hands slowly back up the wall, I grunted, then sighed as I stood up straight again.

"What the hell was that?" Ian asked as he stood in the doorway to the kitchen, holding a beer.

"I was stretching. My back was stiff. Ya mind...mother?" I replied, pulling the edge of my shirt down since it slid up while I stretched.

"No. Not at all." He said softly, then took a drink as he walked back over to the couch.

As I walked towards the kitchen, I heard my stomach growl. Looking at the clock, I saw that it was around dinnertime.

"I'm hungry. Are you?" I asked Ian as I walked into the kitchen.

"A little." He answered, looking my way.

I searched my fridge for something that I could make. There wasn't much in there that I could make a meal out of, so I opened the freezer...same thing. With a growl of frustration, I checked my cabinets...still nothing.

"All right, we'll have to order something. Anything in mind? Or anything you're craving for?" I said, walking into the living room.

Ian raised an eyebrow at me, and I had to replay what I just said to figure out why he did that.

"Food wise, I mean." I muttered quickly.

He lowered the eyebrow as he took a drink from the beer in his hands. "Whatever you want." He answered.

"Well, there's an Italian joint a few blocks down the road. I'll just run down there and get pizza. Is that okay?" I asked, walking towards the door to get my shoes.

"That's fine." I heard Ian reply from the couch.

"Where the hell are my keys?" I mumbled to myself, looking around the door area, where I normally put my keys. "Ian, are my keys on the coffee table or side table?" I called over to him.

While I was searching my area, I heard clicks and ticks from Ian's direction as he picked things up and set them back down.

I saw him look around before answering. "No, not here."

With a 'humph', I picked up my messenger bag to check underneath them, and volia! There were my keys, sitting on the floor. I must have dropped them there when I stumbled in earlier...then again, I was a little preoccupied with the Cadillac following me.

"Ah! I found them. I'll be back in about half an hour. They're normally pretty quick there." I said, going for the doorknob after taking a twenty-dollar bill out of my wallet from in my bag.

"Jack, wait." Ian said, making me stop. I turned around to face him; he stood from the couch, holding something. "Come here."

Gulping, I slowly let go of the doorknob and walked over to Ian. Standing in front of him, I gradually tilted my head up to look him in the eye.

"Take this with you." He said softly, holding the extra 9mm handgun I brought from his apartment.

Looking down at the weapon, then back up to him, my eyes widened.

"Ian, I-I...can't..." I stuttered.

None of them ever gave me a gun to tote around before, and I've never shot at people, just targets.

"Jack, you've handled a gun before." Ian said, seeing my reaction.

"Yeah, but I've never had to shoot at a human being before," I said incredulously.

"You don't have to shoot anyone, just take it as a last resort."

"I'd rather not."

"Just take the fucking gun."

He was becoming irritated...I could see it in his eyes.

"Okay, fine. If it'll make you fucking happy." I finally gave in, taking the weapon from him, and frowning.

"Thank you." He said softly. I started walking back towards the door when I heard him again. "Watch yourself. You have no idea what Collins can do..."

I froze and turned back to him.

"You know? That makes me feel so much better about going out, now." I said, sarcastically.

"Just keep your eyes open. If you see the Cadillac again, call me. I'll come to you."

Why don't you just come with me? Save a phone call.

Nodding, I lifted up the back of my shirt, and stuck the gun in the top of my pants so I could grab it easily enough, then lowered my shirt over it. I then turned back to the door and opened it.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." I said not turning around, then closed the door behind me.

Sticking my keys in my pocket, I took the stairs down to the ground floor, then made my way to the sidewalk and took a right down the street and headed to the Italian place. The whole five minutes it took me to get there, I was looking in every direction, making sure that Collins' Cadillac wasn't following me.

When I got to the place, I ordered a pizza, then sat in a far corner so I could look out the window until the pizza was done.

This had to be the first time in my life where I was afraid to just walk down the street...maybe Ian should have come with me.

When the pizza was ready, I paid Eddie (the self-proclaimed Pizza Guy of the Block), then took the same route back to my apartment, still looking in every direction.

As I walked into the stairwell, I let out a sigh of relief. I didn't see the Cadillac anywhere, but who knew what the hell that could mean. Collins could just be plotting something…or switched cars...

I took the stairs up to my floor, then walked down the hall to my apartment. I was digging for the keys in my pocket and trying to balance the pizza on one arm, when my neighbor came out of her apartment across the hall.

"Hello, Jacquelin." She said. The woman was getting old, so I let it slip that she called me by my full name.

"Hello, Mrs. Jenkins. How are you?" I asked, trying to be civil.

"I'm fine, dear. How are things with you?"

Like hell as of late...

"Uh, crazy, actually. I've had a lot of things on my mind lately."

By that time, I found the keys and dug them out of my pocket. I stuck the key for my apartment in the lock.

"I better get to eating this pizza. Have a good evening, Mrs. Jenkins." I said, turning the key.

"You too, Jacquelin."

Just as I was going for the doorknob, the door opened to reveal Ian. I stared up at him, then looked back to Mrs. Jenkins to see a shocked look on her face. Ducking my head, I put my free hand on Ian's chest and pushed him back, then walked in. I shoved the pizza box in his hands, then took my keys out of the door, and closed it. Turning, I leaned against the door, and stared at Ian as he put the pizza on the coffee table.

"Why'd you do that?" I asked softly.

"Do what?" He replied, turning back to me.

"Open the door. My neighbors don't know you're here...and they know I don't have a boyfriend. Do you know what they're going to think?"

"I thought you didn't care about that shit?"

"I don't, but that neighbor jumps to conclusions a bit too much, and I don't want people getting the wrong idea."

"Then say that I'm your boss and we're going over some important things for the company."

"And you just happen to be _staying_ in _my_ apartment?"

He opened his mouth to retort, then grunted, and shut it. "Then make something up." He finally said after another moment, plopping down on the couch.

I rolled my eyes with a snort, then took off my shoes. "Men..." I mumbled.

Going over to the couch, I tossed my keys next to the pizza box and took the 9mm out of my pants. I handed the weapon to Ian, then walked beyond the couch to the kitchen. I grabbed two paper plates, then a beer out of the fridge for me. Walking back to the couch, I tossed one of the plates at Ian, then moved around him, and sat on the far end of the couch, setting my beer on the table.

"Go ahead. Dig in." I said, motioning to the pizza.

Ian opened the box and took a slice out, then I reached over and did the same. Crossing my legs underneath me, I grabbed the remote, and turned on the television.

"You didn't run into any problems, did you?" He asked me after a few minutes.

"No...but I'm so paranoid, I don't know if I'll ever be able to walk down the street without thinking someone is going to jump out and attack me." I answered quietly.

Ian halted his hand as he brought it up to take another bite of the pizza, then looked at me.

"Are you really that worried about this?"

I looked down at the plate in my hands and thought about it before answering.

"Yes." I said softly, then paused before continuing. "I've never been involved in shit like this before. And...and it's...scaring me, quite frankly."

I took a glance over at Ian, who was looking at the table, his brow furrowed.

"I never should have gotten you into this..." I heard him mumble.

"What?" I asked, confused.

Ian looked over at me, a slightly guilty look on his face.

"I should never have let you become the spy we trained you to be." He said a little louder.

"It's not your fault." I said, putting a hand on his arm. "It's just the thought of being followed by a creep like Collins. Even if you guys didn't train me, I still would have made that phone call to Collins. Then after seeing the car, I probably would have stayed at the warehouse and left you to get your own damn clothes. But I came back. I have more nerves than I thought…just when he showed up in front of my apartment, I got a little freaked out. He knows where I live now."

My thumb subconsciously ran over Ian's arm, and he looked down at it. I, however, didn't stop or remove my hand.

"And I thank you for coming back." He finally said. "I'll think of something to calm you and try to get Collins off your back."

Nodding, I let my hand slide off of his arm. I put my half-eaten slice of pizza on the table and stood up, walking into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, I crossed my arms over my chest, and walked over to the window.

"God, I really am paranoid." I muttered under my breath.

"Do I have to board up the window so you won't spend all your time in the kitchen?"

I spun around and saw Ian leaning on the doorframe, grinning.

"Very funny." I said, sarcastically, stepping away from the window. "Can you blame me, though?"

"Not really, no." He answered.

I gave him a half grin, then walked over to the sink to wash my hands (to get the feel of Ian off...yeah, I know it wouldn't work, but whatever) and take the bottle caps out. After chucking the caps in the recycling bin hidden under the sink, I walked beyond Ian and back to the couch. I picked up my bottle of beer and took a very long drink from it, ignoring my pizza; I wasn't hungry anymore.

Ian sat next to me again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him look at me, but I refused to look at him, my vision focused on the television.

* * *

**A/N: **_Well, there you go. I made it long to make up for me being a slacker._

_I'm on summer break now (don't have a job at the moment) and I'm done with vacations, so there should be updates maybe once a week (if you're lucky)._


	10. Massages and Erotic Images

**A/N: **_Hello again! Here's another chapter! Enjoy the awkwardness while it lasts!_

/x\x/x\x/x\

About an hour later, I got up from the couch, and headed back to my workroom. I didn't want to do any work with the paintings, but I had to do something to get my mind off of the fact that Collins was stalking me. I stared at the boxes of shit on the right side of the room, then walked over to one and sat on the floor in front of it. Opening it, I prepared to sort or shuffle through it.

I sat there on the floor for another hour and a half, I think, before I got up, cracked my back, then turned off the CD player. I hit the light switch to the room as I headed to my bedroom. Closing the door, I changed into my pajamas, then went back out of the room and to the bathroom, where I did my nightly routine. Once done there, I padded out to the living room and saw that Ian was lying on the couch, asleep.

Grinning softly to myself, I walked around the couch, and picked up the blanket on the arm of the couch (that Ian's head wasn't resting on). I gently laid the blanket over him, then turned off the TV. Walking around the couch again, I hit the light switch to turn off the light, then headed back to my bedroom. Closing the door again, I crawled into bed, and turned off the light.

Lying on my back and staring at the ceiling wasn't helping me fall asleep, though. Every ten minutes or so, I would move into a new sleeping position. After a while of tossing and turning, I looked over at my clock to see how long it had been since I climbed into bed.

God, only an hour?

With a frustrated grunt, I got out of bed. I stumbled through the dark to get to the door. Amazingly, I only stubbed my toe once, and after a round of cursing the bed, I kept going over to the door. Upon reaching the door, I opened it, and jumped into the next room...the workroom.

Flipping on the light switch, I sighed, then sat in front of the paintings, then put my hair up in a ponytail.

I really didn't want to fuck with the paintings then, but I could use something to put me to sleep. Picking up the smaller painting in front of me, I stared at it, running my fingers lightly over the canvas.

I don't know how long I was sitting there, staring, but when I heard a thump from the direction of the door, my head shot up and over in that direction as I jumped about two feet in the air, letting the painting fall to the floor.

Ian was leaning against the door. Evidently, he pushed it against the wall, which was the thump I heard. He looked very tired and disheveled.

"Shit, Ian!" I exclaimed.

"Sorry." He muttered with a yawn. "What are you doing?"

"I couldn't sleep. Thought I could pass out in front of this if I tried to do work." I answered, motioning to the paintings.

"You couldn't sleep?" He asked.

I shook my head. "No."

It seemed like he was thinking, but he looked so tired, I wasn't sure if he was thinking or if he was falling asleep.

"Come on." He said, pushing himself away from the door.

"What?" I asked, not sure if I heard him right.

"Come with me. I know how to help you sleep."

I wasn't sure if I wanted to know what he had in mind, but I trusted him, so I got up from the floor. Putting the painting back in the pile with the others, I then followed Ian out to the couch. He stood in front of the couch, and motioned for me to walk around it.

"Sit." He instructed. "And face that way." I pointed to the right arm of the couch.

I gave him a raised eyebrow and a skeptical look, but eventually moved around the couch and sat.

"What are you doing?" I asked, turning my head to look at him.

"Just shut up and relax." He said, sitting on the couch next to me...behind me, technically.

Just as I was about to protest, I felt Ian's hands on my shoulders. All trace of protest left my mouth as I stiffened...I wasn't ready for that. He started massaging my shoulders and neck.

And, boy, did it feel good.

His hands massaged the back of my neck, then my shoulders. He used his thumbs along my spine as his hands moved to my shoulder blades, massaging the knots out of them.

As Ian continued his ministrations, I started to relax and found myself slowly closing my eyes.

"That feels good." I said with a sound that seemed like a cross between a grunt and a moan.

Ian didn't reply, just keep his mind on the task of relaxing me.

Eventually, I couldn't help myself when I started leaning back against him. He didn't seem to mind and frankly, I didn't care if he did or not. Since I was leaning back, Ian returned his hands to my shoulders and neck. His right hand left my neck and a moment later, I felt the blanket that was on the back of the couch being laid over me. I muttered a 'thank you' and pulled it tighter around me. His hand then returned to my neck.

I was starting to fall asleep, so I turned my head and leaned my ear against Ian's chest. I heard his heartbeat speed up a little, but I chose to ignore it and snuggled into him…and not really realizing that I was doing it, anyway.

Feeling Ian lean back against the arm of the couch (probably because my weight was pushing him back), I let myself follow him, settling in for a good sleep.

Just before I actually fell asleep, I felt Ian move his hands away from my neck. One of them felt like it went up behind his head and the other fell to his side, but I felt his hand lightly rest on the side of my hip...and it was comforting, really.

/x\x/x\x/x\

When I woke up the next morning, on my own I might add, I found that I was in my own bed, not on the couch where I remembered falling asleep against Ian. I smiled to myself, thinking back.

He certainly relaxed me enough to allow me to have a decent night's sleep.

My smile left as I wondered how I ended up in my bed. Shaking my head, I decided that Ian probably just carried me back after I fell asleep on him.

Stretching and getting out of my bed, I noticed that the door to my room was left open. Going over to it, I took a look out and saw an arm over the top of the couch. Grinning slightly, I brought my head back into my room and closed the door. Going about my room, I picked out my clothes for the day and changed into them.

When I was done getting dressed, I opened the blinds, then left my bedroom to head for the bathroom. After I was done in the bathroom, I walked over to the couch to check on Ian.

His arm was no longer on the back of the couch, but was lying over his chest. His other arm was hanging off the side. Evidently he was a little tall for my couch since his feet were also hanging over the armrest. The blanket that I vaguely remember him putting over me was now on him covering his stomach to about his shins.

Suppressing a laugh, I went into the kitchen to look for something I could make us for breakfast. I couldn't help taking a glance out of the window as I entered.

Searching the cabinets, I found one of those 'just add water and shake' pancake mixes. Digging around in the drawer under the stove, I found a skillet. Putting it on the stove, I let it heat up while I poured some water into the plastic mixing bottle and shook it. When I shook it enough, I poured some onto the heated skillet and waited for it to finish on one side, then flipped it. After it cooked, I took it off the skillet, putting it on a plate, then restarted the whole process.

I heard a noise from the other room, so I took a look behind me and saw Ian sit up and stretch on the couch. Turning back around, I blushed slightly remembering the little bits and pieces I could recall from the night before, then continued with the pancakes.

Hearing his footsteps, though, I turned around again.

"Morning." I said softly, then flipped a pancake.

"Morning." Ian replied groggily, not looking at me. "Do you have any coffee?"

"Yeah, I'll make it in a minute." I paused and looked him over. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He sighed, then went back to sit on the couch.

I gave him a funny look, then finished with the last of the pancake mix. While the last of the pancakes were cooking, I made some coffee...the last I had in stock.

By some remarkable time slip, the pancakes and coffee finished at the same time, so I took a mug of the beverage and a plate of half the pancakes out to Ian.

"Thanks." He said as he took the mug and plate from me, giving me a forced grin.

"No problem." I said. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, Jack, I'm fine." He snapped.

"All right. Chill out." I said, holding my hands up defensively and taking a step or two backwards.

I was going to ask him if we were still going over to the warehouse, but I changed my mind after that little outburst, and headed back into the kitchen for my breakfast. I decided I'd give him a little space, so I stayed in the small space and ate by myself.

The one bad thing about standing in the kitchen by myself was that I could easily look out the window. Every time a black car that so much as looked like a Cadillac that went past my window made me a bit jumpy.

After finishing my pancakes, I put my plate and fork in the sink, then gripped my coffee mug with both hands as I stared out of the window. Every time one of the previously mentioned cars went past, I froze, and my eyes widened, but when it just kept on driving, I relaxed against the counter I was leaning against.

"Jack."

I turned my head to see Ian standing in the doorway; the empty plate and fork in one hand and the mug in the other hand.

"Ian." I answered, turning my head back to look out of the window.

I heard him walk in and place the dishes in the sink next to me. He then turned to lean his back against the sink and also looked out of the window briefly before turning to look at me.

"All right. What's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing." I sort of lied, then rolled my eyes. "Well, besides the shit going on with Collins, nothing."

I lied because I was curious as to why Ian snapped at me. Was it something I did? Was it because I involuntarily leaned against him last night while he massaged my shoulders...? I had no idea.

Men are confusing.

And _they_ think _women_ are confusing...

I think Genesis had it right when they came up with the song "Land of Confusion".

Ian pushed himself away from the counter and stood in front of me. He took the mug out of my hands and set it on the counter next to me. Since he blocked my view of the street, I had to look up at him and our gazes locked.

"Jack." He started, softly. "You can tell me anything. You know that."

Bullshit. I can't tell him the one thing that could ruin our friendship...no, I'm not in love with him, but there is something there.

"I know." I said, feeling my palms start to sweat. "I just have a lot of...personal...things on my mind at the moment."

He stared at me for a moment before taking a step back and walking out of the kitchen. I saw him pick up the duffel bag I got for him the previous day.

"Mind if I use the bathroom?" He asked as he came back into my line of vision.

I shook my head. "Go ahead." I answered, then grinned. "I don't like smelly house guests."

He rose an eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. Then he lifted his arm and pretended to sniff his armpit.

"I don't smell...that bad." He replied.

I laughed. "Just shower before my neighbors think I have a dead body in here."

"All right. All right." He chuckled, then headed to the bathroom.

While Ian was washing up, I turned back to the sink and cleaned the dishes. When I was cleaning, however, my mind started to wander and I ended up imagining what was happening in my bathroom. My imagination strayed pretty far and created the image of a naked Ian standing under the steady stream of hot water in the shower. I closed my eyes as I imagined myself in that picture with him and felt my cheeks heat up...along with a fluttering in my stomach.

I heard a shuffling in the other room and my eyes snapped open as I gasped and dropped the fork I was 'cleaning' in the sink.

How long was I standing there like that...?

"Everything all right in there?" I heard Ian call.

My cheeks flushed to an even deeper pink color as I realized that he could have seen the look on my face as my mind created those erotic images.

"Y-Yeah. I'm good." I eventually answered, then cleared my throat and continued to finish cleaning the dishes.

When I was finished in the kitchen, I took a quick look out of the window, then left the kitchen and went to sit on the couch while Ian moved things around in the duffel bag. It was then that I noticed what he was wearing: one of his light blue colored, button down shirts and dress pants. The first five buttons or so on the shirt were undone, exposing his neck and part of his chest, which was where my eyes lingered for a few moments before I remembered my earlier thoughts and brought a hand to my forehead, closing my eyes.

"So, are we still going to the warehouse today?" I asked, trying to get the images my mind created out of my head.

"Yes. I just have to call the other three to have them meet us there." He said, taking his cell phone out of the bag. "Oh, and do you have a dishwasher to clean this." He took the science project of a water bottle out of his bag.

I let out a laugh. "Yeah, no problem."

I took the bottle from him and went back out to the kitchen to dump whatever was in it in the sink, then ran the water for a bit to get rid of the smell. Then I shoved the bottle and its lid into the dishwasher. Since it was full enough, I ran the washer, then headed back out to the living room. I entered the room and saw Ian hang up his phone.

"Almost ready?" I asked, wanting to get out of my apartment for the moment.

"Just have to call Phil." He replied, buttoning two of the buttons on his shirt.

"Okay, great. I need to get a pair of socks, yet." I said quietly, then headed back to my bedroom.

As I passed the bathroom, I could smell Ian's cologne (or soap, it was hard to tell) and I paused momentarily. The images from before crept back into my head. Shaking my head, I continued on to my room where I grabbed a pair of socks out of one of my drawers, then headed back to the living room.

I grabbed my boots on the way over to the couch. Sitting next to Ian, I put my socks on, then my boots. As I laced them up, Ian hung up the phone again.

Glancing over at him, I saw that he was looking at my back. When he saw that I was looking at him, he shifted his eyes to mine, then grinned slightly before looking to the floor in front of him.

"We should get going. The others will be there in a few minutes." He said after clearing his throat.

"Okay." I muttered, then subtly moved my right hand to my back to try and figure out what he was staring at. It seemed like a good three inches of my skin was exposed from where my shirt slid up my back...so that's why he was now blushing at being caught.

We both got off of the couch at the same time. While Ian went to the door, I went to grab my keys and messenger bag.

Ian opened the door and we both walked out. One of my other neighbors just had to walk out of his apartment at the same time we did. Luckily, the guy was married and didn't really care that I had some guy in my apartment. I can hear him and his wife go at it some nights anyway...and they live two apartments over!

"Hey, Joe." I said, closing my door. I could feel Ian step closer to me, his posture straightening protectively. Glancing behind me to him, I saw that he was giving Joe a hard look.

Whoa there, Tiger. Just a neighbor.

"Hi, Jack. How are you?" Joe asked, then noticed Ian's look. "And who's your...friend?"

"I'm fine, just a little stressed lately." I then took a step to the side, so Ian was next to me. "And this is Ian. A...an old friend of mine." I put my hand on his arm and squeezed it slightly. It looked like he was going to punch Joe in the face.

"Ah, nice to meet you Ian." Joe replied, not moving from his spot...probably because he saw the dangerous look on Ian's face. Joe then looked back at me. "He's not your painting friend, is he?"

"Oh, no." I laughed, then glanced at Ian again, my eyes laughing hysterically at him.

Joe raised an eyebrow at me, then called me over to him. I looked back to Ian and gave him a slight, reassuring nod, then went over to Joe.

"He's not a 'friend with benefits' is he?" Joe asked, quietly.

Oh, God, if only...if only he was more than that...

"No, he's not. Just a friend. He came over to get me and we're going out to breakfast. I haven't seen him for a while." I lied.

"I'm just looking out for you, kid." He replied.

"I know. And I thank you." I smiled a fake smile, then walked back over to Ian and locked my door. "We really have to get going. Nice seeing you, again, Joe."

"You, too, Jack."

Ian and I turned and started walking towards the stairs. I had to pull him along for a moment, when he still gave Joe an evil look. When we got to the top of the stairs, I looked up at Ian before going down.

"Ian, he's just my neighbor. He has a wife and he's a friend. He's looking out for me, just like you; he's no threat." I smiled at him for reinforcement.

When Ian looked down at me, I saw his eyes soften and he nodded. We then continued on down the stairs and out to my car. Once we got out of my building, I hit the button on my remote entry to disarm the alarm, then unlocked the doors. As I walked towards my Yaris, I looked around the parking lot, looking for any car that I hadn't seen before. After a quick sweep, I got into my car with Ian. I started the car then pulled out of the parking lot and headed to the warehouse.

* * *

**A/N: **_Ahoy sexual tension!_

_More soon. Review please!_


	11. Meetings

**A/N: **_Sorry for the delay. I got sidetracked with an idea for a RockNRolla fict and had to start writing before I forgot anything._

_I'm not exactly happy with the first part of this chapter, but I guess it helps things move along. I did throw in a hockey reference here; if you don't understand, that's okay...I get really nerdy with anything that has to do with hockey. Just know that Detroit is totally the better team here. LOL._

/x\x/x\x/x\

Ian and I were both silent during the ride, so I turned on the CD player just to have some noise. The CD was a compellation of Pink Floyd. I kept it low in case one of us decided to start talking.

When we reached the warehouse, I parked my car around the back next to Ian's Saab and killed the engine.

"Glad to see it's in one piece." I heard Ian mumble, looking over to his car.

"Yeah, did I mention that I also kept an eye on your cars while you all left me here?" I said, also looking over to it, a small smirk playing on my lips.

Ian turned his head to look at me, then opened the door.

"I guess I thank you for that, too." He said.

I nodded with an eye roll, then also popped the door open and got out. Looking over the roof of my car, I saw that Phil's Audi and Viktor's Land Rover were parked there as well. Then I saw Shaw's Corvette and had a thought.

"Hey, Ian?" I asked, staring at the car.

"Yeah?" He replied, walking around my car, and starting to walk to the front of the building.

"What're you gonna do with Shaw's car?"

I saw him freeze mid-step and his back go ridged. Maybe bringing up Shaw was a bad idea at the moment.

"Uh, you know what? Nevermind. Sorry I brought it up." I then muttered to myself: "Way to go, dumbass."

He sighed, not turning around, but talking to me over his shoulder. "No, it's okay." His tone made me think otherwise. "I guess we'll just have to sell it."

I nodded, then followed him to the front of the building. When we got to the front door, Ian went to turn off the security system, but it was already off. Whoever was the last one in didn't re-alarm the place. We stepped through the door (which Ian held open for me), then went upstairs to wait for Shippen and to say 'hi' to the other two.

Ian immediately went upstairs and made a beeline for his office, saying a short 'hello, we need a meeting when Shippen gets here' to Phil and Viktor.

As soon as I reached the top of the stairs, I went over to my desk to drop off my bag and start up my computer. Almost as soon as I hit the button on my monitor, Viktor called a hello to me from his desk at the far end of the floor. I called back with a wave and a laugh, then sat down in my chair.

"Hey, Phil." I said, while blowing out a lung-full of air.

"Hi, Jack. How were things around here?" He replied, typing something, but looking at me.

"Pretty boring actually. I didn't have anyone to toss paper airplanes at." I grinned cheekily.

Phil laughed, then went back to concentrating on typing.

About a minute later, I heard footfalls on the stairs. Looking over to them, I saw Shippen appear at the top.

"Hello again, Ship. Ian says we're going to have a meeting soon, so don't get too comfy." I said when he saw me.

"About yesterday?" He asked, stepping up to the side of my desk.

"I think so...and a few other things." I replied.

Shippen nodded, then went over to his desk.

When I looked to the back of the warehouse, I saw Ian had noticed that Shippen arrived. He gathered up a piece of paper, then headed out of the door.

"Down stairs. I have a few things to go over with all of you. Jack, bring a pen and paper." He announced, closing his door behind him.

I nodded, then shuffled some things around on my desk to find my small pad of paper that I used for our meetings. When I finally found it, I snatched a pen out of an old mug I used as a pen/pencil holder, then stood up and waited for the men.

When they passed by my desk, I followed them down the stairs, then sat myself in one of the dark blue, squishy chairs in front of the plasma television. Ian sat in the chair across the coffee table from me, Shippen and Viktor sat on the couch, and Phil sat on the arm of my chair. I didn't mind, as long as I could still write and he didn't topple onto me.

I assumed that this was a normal meeting between all of us, so at the top of the paper I wrote the date then waited for Ian to start talking. When he did, I wrote down the main points of what he said…just as I normally did.

Ian only talked about three main things: what to do with Shaw's car, the fact that he was staying in my apartment for a few days until he felt it was safe to return to his loft, and that Collins wanted me...basically. Shippen already knew that last point, but the other two didn't.

"Just keep your eyes open for anything suspicious for a while. And be wary if Collins starts calling or showing up." Ian said, looking at each of us in turn. After we all nodded, he continued. "All right. That's all I have. Anything else?"

The four of us shook our heads, then we all got up and went to where ever we wanted to go. I headed to the small alcove towards the back of the first floor, where we had our 'kitchen' (which just had a sink, a mini fridge, a coffee maker, and cabinet…we had a microwave, but someone, named Phil, broke it). Going into the mini fridge, I pulled out a bottle of water and took a long drink, leaning against the sink.

"Hey, you mind getting out of the way, so I can make some coffee?" Viktor said in his thick, Russian accent from the doorway.

I turned to look at him and rolled my eyes, then moved away from the sink and stepped out of the alcove.

"Just watch it when hockey season rolls around. I think Detroit might take the Cup this year." I said, lightly hitting his arm.

"Oh, no. Washington has it. Come on. They have Ovechkin." He argued.

"They may have Ovechkin, but Detroit has both Osgood and Howard between the pipes, not to mention so many veterans they could fill a whole All-Star team with all that talent." I argued back, grinning. "Besides, Ovechkin practically IS the team and that's just sad."

He was left speechless.

Yes, I knew what I was talking about. When I'm not busy at the warehouse, I check the scopes online for which teams will be the best in which sport. And hockey just happened to be my specialty.

"That's what I thought." I said, then walked towards the stairs with my bottle of water.

When I got back to my desk, I tossed the pad of paper on the corner, then sat in my chair. My screensaver, a slideshow of photos of my past and present, was on and I ended up staring at it, smiling for a few moments. I then shook my head and glanced back towards Ian's office. Why? I have no idea, but I did. I saw that Ian had glanced up from his desk at the same time I did and our gazes locked for a brief second, where I saw the ghost of a grin on his lips.

A blinking light on my desk made me look away from him and down to the light. It was the answering machine for the warehouse. I frowned as I grabbed a spare sheet of paper and another pen. As I picked up the receiver, I vaguely remembered hearing Viktor come back up the stairs, grumbling that the coffee was too hot at the moment. Listening to the messages (there were three total), I wrote down who it was for, who it was from, and what it was concerning. The first and last messages were for Ian and the second one was for Phil...from some woman.

I stood up and was just about to deliver the messages when I heard footsteps on the stairs again. I surveyed the floor and saw that all the guys were there. When this person came around the corner, my eyes widened.

Standing before me, and grinning, was Tom Collins...at least that's who I thought he was from the description I gave Ian of the driver in the Cadillac. He was wearing sunglasses.

My heartbeat sped up, and I took a step backwards running the back of my legs into my chair. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Phil stand up from his own chair and look my way.

"Hello. I'm Tom Collins. You must be Miss Ferdinand." He said, extending his hand to me as he flipped his sunglasses to the top of his head.

"I am." I said, hesitantly taking his hand.

I was expecting a handshake, but he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. Quickly, I pulled my hand back and subtly wiped the back of my hand on my pants. It seems that my reaction made him grin wider and he looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on the V of my shirt.

Feeling very self-conscious, I turned my head quickly to see that Viktor and Shippen were now standing. I also noticed that Ian was on high alert, staring at us, too. Wanting to get out of this very uncomfortable situation, I opened my mouth to speak.

"I assume you're here to speak with Mr. Howe." I stated more than asked.

"Hmm, yes." Collins paused for a moment. "But he can wait." He had lowered his voice to a seductive tone that was not affecting me whatsoever. He took another step closer to me.

"He really can't, actually. We're a little behind in our work because of the last few days." I tried to keep my voice civil again while talking with this man. "As you can see, his office is straight back." I paused and took another look back to Ian. He was standing from his desk and heading to the door. "And it looks as if he's ready to see you, so you can head on back."

I just wanted the creep away from me.

Collins 'humphed' then looked me over once more before heading back to Ian's office.

I kept my eyes on him until he went into the office and Ian closed the door. When I saw both men sit down, I plopped down heavily in my chair. I then crossed my arms on my desk and rested my head on them.

"Fucking prick." I mumbled into my arms.

I heard one of the guys push a chair around, then more footsteps around the floor. Another few, short moments later, one of them was next to my chair.

"You all right, Jack."

It was Shippen.

"I'm not sure, Ship." I said, turning my head to him, but still resting it on my arms. "I will be, though...when he leaves."

Shippen kneeled down next to me. "I don't like him either." He was looking back to the office.

I grinned. "Aww, Ship. Are you looking after me?" I joked.

"Of course, Jackal." He grinned. "You're like a little sister to me."

"Gee, thanks." I laughed.

He shrugged, still grinning, then stood, patted my shoulder, and went back to his desk. I saw that Phil and Viktor sat back down behind their desks.

After a deep, mind-clearing breath, I picked up the paper with the phone messages. I took a long swig from my water bottle, then headed over to Phil's desk.

"Hey, Phil, there was a message for you on the answering machine. It was some woman." I said.

"Did she leave a number?" He asked, looking up at me.

"Yeah." I then gave him the number.

"That's my cousin's number. Did she say why she called?"

I looked back at the paper. "Something about you calling her about some surprise party…?"

"Oh, shit. Okay, Jackal. Thanks." He smirked, knowing I hated the nickname.

Grumbling, I went back over to my desk, since I wasn't about to give Ian his messages at the moment. Sitting back in my chair, I turned to my computer and pulled up the internet. I checked on my friend's paintings before checking my e-mail to see if any of my other friends had contacted me.

A few minutes after checking my e-mail, I heard the door to Ian's office open. Looking up, I saw Collins walking out of the office. Ian stood in the doorway, watching him. I was more than a little nervous when Collins stopped in front of my desk.

"Miss Ferdinand. I apologize for my actions earlier..."

Bull fucking shit.

"I hope you don't think me improper."

I do.

Here, he lowered his voice and leaned over my desk, slightly. "But when I see a beautiful woman, I can't help myself."

I'm pretty sure my mouth dropped open as I just stared at him. I really wanted him away from me. I didn't want to hear that from _him_ either.

Tightening my jaw and waiting for my heart to slow its rush of blood to my head, I tried to think of a way for him to leave. I didn't have to think of anything, though, when he continued after setting a business card on my desk in front of me.

"Call anytime. Day...or night." He ended even more quietly and grinned seductively before standing up straight and going down the stairs.

After listening closely to hear the front door open and close, I almost fainted in my chair. I was close; I saw the spots on the edges of my vision. Grabbing my water quickly, I took a sip. Once I set the water back down, I saw the card sitting on my desk and picked it up in between my thumb and index finger. Scanning over it, I saw at least three different phone numbers on it: one for Collins' office, one for his home, and one for his cell phone. I almost threw the card over my shoulder to forget about it…temporarily. Instead, I crumpled it up angrily and threw it in the trashcan, then spat on it.

/x\x/x\x/x\

**A/N:**_ Please reivew. And thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed, favored, and alerted!_


	12. Kitchen and Couch Situations

**A/N:**_ I'm still working on that RockNRolla fict, so updates are sporatic...and I started college classes again. Since this is my last semester, I get all the tough classes, so I'll update when I can._

_But be happy! This is an EXTREMELY long chapter. I wouldn't expect a lot like this...I couldn't find a good enough spot to stop._

_On that note: Enjoy more awkwardness!_

/X\X/X\X/X\

Deciding that I needed a break, I got up from my chair, took my water, and went downstairs to lay on the couch. I brought a hand up to cover my eyes, then took a few deep breaths. When I felt that my heart rate was returned to normal, I got up and off the couch, then headed back upstairs. Setting my water back on my desk, I grabbed the paper I wrote the messages on and a pen. I crossed off the message for Phil since I already gave it to him.

Glancing up, I saw that Ian was behind his desk again. There was on frown on his handsome face as he typed something.

I stepped around my desk, then walked back to the office. After knocking softly, I opened the door and stuck my head through.

Ian looked up and his facial features softened. "Come in." He said softly.

I stepped through the door and closed it behind me, then I took a few steps over to one of the chairs in front of his desk to sit down.

"There were two messages for you on the answering machine." I started in a flat tone. He nodded, so I continued. "One said that the microwave you ordered is on back order and won't be here for another week or so. The other was from someone named Gene Fenstemacher. He left a number but no message."

I noticed that when I was reading off the messages, in my chicken-scratch handwriting, my hands were shaking. I blamed it all on Collins; he shook me up...er, quite literally.

"All right, thanks." Ian said softly.

I nodded this time, then crumbled the paper and threw it in the trash next to Ian's desk. Balling my hands into fists, I stood from the chair, then headed to the door.

"Jack, wait." Ian said.

I paused with my hand on the doorknob, then turned back to face him, leaning against the door. He stood from the chair and moved around his desk to stand in front of me.

"Are you okay? I mean, after being confronted by Collins." He asked. His eyes held...something. I wasn't sure what, but I could at least see a mix of emotions there.

"I'll be fine." I answered in a whisper, looking down to the floor.

Ian reached his hand down to lift my hand by the wrist. My heartbeat sped up again, but this was for a very different reason. He held my wrist lightly in his large hand and we both watched as my hand shook. I let it shake for a quick moment, then clutched my hand into a tight fist.

"Why don't you go home, Jack." Ian suggested.

I looked up to him for a moment with a helpless look. "Ian...I can't. I don't think I'd be sane long if I was left alone. I'd be thinking that Collins would do...something to get me or something like that." I paused to take a deep breath. "He gave me a business card with his numbers on it, telling me to call him at anytime."

Ian frowned again when I regaled the tale of what happened between Collins and I.

"I told him to leave you alone. Obviously, he didn't heed my word." He said. "What did you do with the card?"

"Threw it in the garbage. There's no way in hell I'm going to call him...again." I answered.

This evidently made Ian smirk a little. "All right, good. Go back to whatever you were doing. We'll get out of here in a little while."

Nodding, I made to turn, then remembered Ian was still holding onto my wrist.

"I'll need you to let go of my wrist before I can go anywhere." I said with a grin, even though I really didn't want him to let go.

"Oh, of course." He said as if he was in a trance and completely forgot he was holding onto me.

When he did let go, I turned, still with a grin, and opened the door. Crossing the floor back to my desk, I lifted the wrist that Ian had held and stared at it. I smiled inwardly.

Back at my desk, I finished off the rest of the water in my bottle. I tossed the bottle across my desk and next to Shippen's where the recycling bin was. I hit the edge of the bin and the bottle bounced under Shippen's desk, where I think it hit his leg...since he looked down.

"Jackal." He chastised.

"Sorry, Ship. You know I suck at basketball." I grinned evilly.

"That's not the only sport you suck at." He retorted, bending down to pick up the bottle and tossed it into the bin.

I rose an eyebrow still grinning. "What's that supposed to mean? You wanna take this outside?"

"No. It's just that you're not the 'sporty' type. You have more intellect, than brawn." He said.

"Whoa, big words. Did they hurt your brain to come up with?"

I turned my head to the other side of the floor, where I heard Phil start snickering.

"You wanna piece of this, Philly?" I asked him.

"Nah, Jackal." He said, then mumbled under his breath (but I still heard it): "I'll leave that to Ian."

My grin faded. "What did you say?"

"Nothing." He said with a straight face.

"Yeah...sure." I muttered, eyeing him. I looked back at Shippen. "Thanks for getting that for me, Ship."

"No problem, Jack."

I turned my attention back to my computer and surfed the net for a few things. I needed to find a birthday present to send to my father since his special day was coming up in a few weeks. When I narrowed it down to a few things, which took about two hours or so, I heard Ian come out of his office.

I lifted my head to look at Ian as he turned off the lights and locked the door behind him.

"Let's get out of here for the day. We'll come back tomorrow to pick things up." He said to all of us as he walked towards my desk.

I shut down my computer, along with Phil, Shippen, and Viktor, then grabbed my bag and the five of us went down the stairs and left the warehouse. I locked the door and set the alarm. Ian stayed near me as the other three said their 'good-bye's and left to get into their cars. After I was done, I grinned shortly at Ian, then we went to the back of the warehouse.

"Are you coming with me or are you bringing your own car to my apartment?" I asked.

God, I really wanted him to come with me.

"I guess I'll come with you. The less cars Collins sees at your apartment, the better...if he does know where you live." He replied.

Oh, thank you!

"All right. Hop in." I said, unlocking my car, and willing my heart to slow its pumping. At this rate, I was bound to have high blood pressure problems.

After getting in the car and starting it up, I turned my head to look at Ian before turning on the CD player and finding a decent song.

"Do you want to stop somewhere on the way back to get food? Since I don't have much." I asked, pressing buttons.

"If you want. It's up to you, really. You're driving." He replied.

I laughed. "You're right. I guess we could stop by the grocery store. Grab some frozen dinners."

"That's fine. Food is food." He said.

"Here, here."

I put my car in gear and we headed back towards my apartment. Along the way, we stopped by the grocery store to pick up some food and other things needed for sustenance in my apartment. When it came to paying for everything, Ian gave me a hard time.

"Seriously, Ian. I'll pay. It's no big deal...and technically, it's your money anyway." I said to end the argument.

"Fine. But I pay for whatever you need next."

I wanted to laugh. Now that he said that, I might need a new car...or hell, another apartment.

Nodding my head with an eye roll, I paid for the food and we continued on to my apartment. When we arrived, I parked my car and shut off the engine. Before I even had my seatbelt off, Ian had gathered all of the bags of groceries (which was only about six), and was standing at the main door, waiting for me to open it. I quickly got out of my car to remedy that.

"I could have taken some of those, you know." I said, opening the door.

Ian just grunted, walking passed me and into the building. As he walked passed, I couldn't help but notice the way the muscles and sinew in his arms rippled as he carried the bags. A small chill ran down my spine as my mind wandered slightly, again, imagining what else he could do with those arms.

"Jack."

"Huh?"

I shook my head, trying to refocus.

"You okay?" Ian asked, looking behind him to me since he was at the foot of the stairs.

"Yeah, fine. Just...thinking." I answered.

"Well, think while you walk, please. These are getting heavy." He complained.

"I told you I'd take some." I smirked.

Again, he grunted, then we both went up the stairs and down the hall to my apartment. I hurriedly unlocked the door and let Ian go in first. I watched him as he went into my kitchen and set the bags on the counter. I took my bag off my shoulder and placed it next to the door with my boots after toeing them off. I then walked to the kitchen. Ian grinned at me shortly when I entered, then he left the kitchen to take off his own shoes, leaving them next to mine by the door.

I had started putting things in their rightful place (AKA: where I could find them again) when Ian came back to the kitchen and stood in the doorway.

"Anyway I can help?" He asked.

"Nope. I got it." I paused as I looked at the dinners. "Actually, you could shove these in the microwave...if you want."

"Sure."

He came over to me and took the dinners that I held out to him. Moving behind me, since my microwave was next to the refrigerator, he prepared our dinners.

Now, remember I said my kitchen was small. I wasn't kidding. If I took a step back, I ran into Ian. If I took a step to my right, I ran into Ian. So you could imagine that it was a little hard to put things away with the two of us in there.

I needed to put the dishwasher detergent underneath my sink, and in doing so, I would either have to bend over or squat down. As much fun as it would be to give Ian a show, I decided to just squat. As I did so, I realized that I was wearing one of my shorter-lengthed shirts.

So, Ian got another peek at my bare back again. No big deal. I wasn't affected.

When I stood up, I casually took a glance at Ian. He was smirking at me. Grinning back, I quickly turned around and continued to put the rest of the groceries away. After they were put away, I had to put the plastic bags somewhere and that somewhere was under the sink. Without realizing what I was doing, I bent over to shove the bags underneath. When I did realize it, I snapped the upper half of my body up (facing the counter) and felt a blush creep up on my cheeks. I turned my head slightly to look over my shoulder at Ian out of the corner of my eye.

Nice going, Jack. Why don't you just give him a strip tease and end this charade..? Or better yet, just jump on him and demand that he take you...?

As much as I wanted to listen to the little devil sitting on my left shoulder, I just walked as casually as I could out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom. I locked the door behind me and went over to the sink. Letting the water run as cold as it could get, I then splashed water on my face and neck. I grabbed a washcloth out of the linen closet and soaked it in water. Wringing it out, I then took it with me over to sit on the toilet seat lid. I put the cloth over my eyes and took a few deep breaths.

What the hell is wrong with me? Ever since Ian went on that treasure hunt and came back to stay at my apartment for an undefined amount of time, there's been a sexual frustration battle inside me. Yes, I liked him as a friend and companion, but could I like, or dare I say love, him as something more than that?

I didn't know how long I was sitting there lost in my thoughts, but after a time, Ian knocked on the door.

"Jack, are you all right?"

"Uh..." I had to clear my throat. "Y-yeah. I'll be right out."

I heard what sounded like a scrape on the door, then Ian's footsteps as he walked away.

Taking the cloth back to the sink, I hung it over the faucet, and took a breath.

"Suck it up, Jacquelin. And control your fuckin' sexual fantasies." I muttered to my reflection in the mirror. I then growled at my reflection.

With another deep breath, I unlocked the door and went back out towards the kitchen. Instead of actually going into the kitchen, I went over to the couch and sat down, folding my legs and feet underneath me. I took the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around my body tightly, even burying my head under it, too.

I heard Ian walk into the room.

"Are you sure you're all right?" He asked.

_No, you're killing me with your presence!_ I wanted to scream at him. All thoughts of Tom Collins vanished when he was around me. _ALL_ thoughts vanished. The bad part was that he had no idea.

"Yeah. And if I'm lying to you and myself, then I _will_ be okay...eventually." I answered after a moment, still under the blanket.

Ian set something down on the coffee table, then walked away only coming back a few moments later to set something else down. He then sat down on the couch fairly close to me.

"If you want to come out of your nest, dinner's ready." He said softly.

I pulled the blanket off my head and looked at him, smiling slightly. He smiled back.

"Thank you, Ian." I said softly.

Nodding, he leaned forward and picked up the TV dinner of macaroni and cheese that I picked out and handed it to me, along with a fork. Freeing my hands from the blanket, I took both objects from him with a dip of my head as a thanks. I saw beer on the table: a bottle for me and a bottle for Ian. I leaned forward to pick up the remote for the television and turned it on, just so I wouldn't spew any words to Ian that I was going to regret. Once I found some sort of show that wasn't stupid or boring, I set the remote down next to me on the couch and ate my food. Ian did the same. Occasionally, we would reach out to take a drink of beer.

After finishing dinner, I set my garbage on the coffee table, then rewrapped myself in the blanket. Ian and I watched stuff on television for the rest of the night. I, for one, didn't want to do anything else. Part of my mind was still on Collins and his impromptu visit to the warehouse.

It was around ten o'clock when I had to know something.

"Ian, what are we going to do about Collins?" I asked.

Ian looked at me before answering. "I'm not sure. We'll keep an eye on him for now. That's about all we can do."

"What if he tries something...with me?" I had to know.

Still looking at me, Ian contemplated what I asked. Probably taking in every aspect of what that question entailed.

"Just remember that you have Phil, Viktor, Shippen, and especially me behind you. We'll look out for you, Jackal." He grinned.

Rolling my eyes, I chose to ignore the nickname, but nodded all the same.

"So, does that mean, I'll never get any me time with all you men around?" I asked in a joking manner, smirking, and looking at him.

Ian laughed. "We won't be around you all of the time. You'll still have your space."

"All right, good." I also laughed.

We then fell into another silence while we went back to watching some movie on TV.

About half an hour later, I started getting tired. With only a semi-conscious thought of what I was doing, I leaned over towards Ian and rested my head on his shoulder. But I didn't stop there. I snuggled up against him (since I was getting cold even with the blanket) and attempted to steal some of his body heat.

The little devil on my left shoulder was telling me to wrap the blanket around the both of us, but I chose to listen to the little angel on my right shoulder...if only a little bit. It was telling me to just go to bed and wrap up there to get warm.

"Getting tired?" Ian asked, and I could only assume he was attempting to look down at me.

"A little...and I'm getting cold. Hope you don't mind that I steal some heat from you." I answered.

Wow. That could have been taken a different way...and I only realized that after I said it.

"I mean..." I couldn't think of anything. "Yeah, that didn't come out right."

"I knew what you meant. Don't worry about it." He said.

Ian pulled his arm out from under my body and wrapped it around my shoulders. My heart sped up its pace. I leaned into him more and sighed. If I fell asleep leaning on Ian, then so be it. At least I was damn comfortable and thoughts of Collins slipped my mind.

I inhaled deeply (smelling Ian as I did so) and closed my eyes for just a moment...or at least what I thought was a moment.

I was having this dream that involved Ian and I in very compromising positions in my shower, when I woke up suddenly for some reason.

My eyes snapped open, but I didn't move any other part of my body. I was lying down on something that was not my squishy couch or my bed...and it was moving. Turning my head slowly, I looked up and saw Ian. Somehow he maneuvered me in my sleep so I was stretched out on the couch and lying on top of him, my head resting on his chest, my body following his, and I was situated in between his legs. The blanket was over both of us, but still mostly on me. Ian's right arm was wrapped around my waist, while his left was behind his head.

I was going to head back to my room after I got tired of watching TV, but now? Fuck that! I was going to stay right here.

Looking back up at Ian's face, I saw how peaceful he looked. He wasn't plagued by anything in his sleep that he was plagued with in his life. I wondered how he was dealing with Shaw's death, but I wasn't going to ask him about it. I knew the subject was touchy with him.

Looking over at the clock, I saw that it was almost two thirty in the morning. I laid my head back on Ian's chest and snuggled against him becoming comfortable once more, including bringing my right hand up to rest next to my head on his chest.

Just as I was about to drift off again, I felt something twitch against my stomach. Noticing where my stomach was, I realized that Ian was becoming aroused...in his sleep. He must have been having one hell of a dream. When I shifted slightly, Ian moaned and tightened his arm around me. I had to turn my face into his chest to keep from laughing out loud. I got control of myself and began to fall asleep again. Right before I visited the land of R.E.M. sleep, I heard something from Ian's mouth that I never thought I would hear (not in real life anyway): "Mmm, Jacquelin...Jack...Jackie Baby."

Jackie Baby? It sounded like an endearment to a lover...but I have to admit, I kinda liked it. Coming from Ian's lips, anyway.

I fell back asleep with a large grin on my face.

/X\X/X\X/X\

**A/N: **_Ahahaha! Awkward!_

_Now, wasn't that nice and long? Even though not much happened..._

_Please review. And mad thanks to those who have read, reviewed, favored, and alerted!_


	13. Bare Encounters

**A/N: **_Hey, lookie here! An update! Sorry for the delay. My normal excuses apply: film projects and hockey (early morning practices wear me out for the rest of the day). I got pissed at my prof. for giving me a D on my project so I had to cool down a bit before writing more._

_Anywho, here's the newest chapter...it's nice and long. Enjoy!_

/X\X/X\X/X\

When I woke up later that morning, I was still resting on Ian, except this time, I was completely on my stomach with my right hand on his chest and my left wrapped around his back as far as I could reach. Both of Ian's arms were wrapped tightly around my back and waist.

I moved slightly and felt that Ian's very early morning wood was no more...thankfully. I think that would have been embarrassing for both of us.

Tilting my head up slowly, I saw that Ian was looking down at me. A slow, lazy grin graced his features. I rested my chin on his chest and grinned back at him.

"Hey." I said, groggily.

"Morning." Ian replied.

His secure grip on me loosened a bit.

"Why didn't you take me to my room when I fell asleep? Or at least wake me up?" I asked him, moving my left arm from under his back.

Ian shrugged as his arms slid off my body, resting at my sides. "You were right. It was cold. And that blanket isn't that thick. You were keeping me warm." He answered casually with another smirk.

I was pretty sure my cheeks turned a slight pink, so I turned my head to the side to prevent him from seeing the blush. It was around this time that I figured that I should get up...as much as I didn't want to. I had to go to the bathroom anyway.

"Would you mind helping me up?" I asked.

I didn't want to end up punching him or anything.

Nodding, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, which made me slide down him onto my haunches. From there, I kneeled on the couch, then got off, groaning a little when my legs protested holding my weight for a moment. I knew what Ian was going to ask, so I beat him to it.

"I'm fine. My legs're just a little numb at the moment." I said over my shoulder as I limped back to the bathroom.

After I did my business in the bathroom, including brushing my teeth and all that jazz, I headed to my bedroom to get dressed...changed, really, since I didn't get the chance to change into my pajamas the night before.

As I grabbed a shirt and underwear out of my drawers, I heard Ian moving about, probably grabbing his own clothes and heading to the bathroom.

I set my underwear and shirt on the edge of my bed, then took off my dirty shirt and tossed it to my dirty clothes bin. As I unhooked my bra and slid it down my arms, I heard Ian walk closer, but thought nothing of it. I tossed the bra with the shirt.

"Jack, do you..."

Shit!

I grabbed the shirt on my bed and held it up against my front.

Why didn't I have the sense to close the door...?

"Ian." I breathed, startled, and turned slightly to glance at him.

"I'm so sorry, Jack." Ian apologized, bowing his head, and stepping out of view.

I quickly threw the shirt on, then crossed my arms over my chest as I approached the door. Sticking my head out of the doorway, I saw Ian leaning against the wall with one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his eyes, and head tilted towards the floor.

"Ian..." I started.

"I am sorry, Jack." He said, stepping away from the wall to face me, and letting his arms drop.

"It's all right. It was just an accident. My fault, really. My dumbass didn't close the door." I laughed shortly to lessen the tension. "Besides, it's not like you haven't seen boobs before."

Where the hell was this bravery to say what I want coming from?

He rose an eyebrow before nodding, then looked into my eyes. "I apologize again." He paused, but before he could say anything else, I stepped in.

"If you apologize to me one more time, I'm going to punch you." I said with a grin and pointing a finger at him.

"Okay, okay." He defended with a grin, holding his hands up. "We should head over to the warehouse soon."

"Yeah, okay. I'll be ready soon." I replied. "You know, it won't be long before we look back on this and laugh our asses off."

"I hope you're right." He muttered, then walked back down the hall to the bathroom.

I brought my head back into my room and closed the door. Taking off the shirt, I continued to get dressed after taking a pair of work pants out of my closet. Once done, I grabbed a pair of socks, then hopped down the hall as I put them on and walked.

Going into the kitchen, I slid the coffeepot out and made some coffee. I grabbed two bowls out of the cabinet, then the cereal. I placed it all on the counter, then snagged the milk out of the fridge and spoons out of a drawer.

I'm not big of breakfast, so cereal would suffice. If Ian needed more, he can take his own car and get more when we get to the warehouse.

I poured some cereal and milk in a bowl and started eating. After pouring some of the coffee in a mug, I took the step over to the dishwasher and started to empty it. The last thing I took out was Ian's blue and lime green water bottle. I set it on the counter closest to the living room, hoping he'd see it there.

Just as soon as I finished with the dishwasher, Ian came into the living room. As I looked at him, I started chuckling and nothing triggered it except for my memory from earlier. Turning my back on him, I went to pick up my bowl and continue eating...still laughing. I leaned my back against the counter next to the microwave while I attempted to eat. When Ian walked into the kitchen, he stopped and stared at me. I couldn't help but laugh out right.

"Did I miss something?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

I tried to stop laughing. "No, you were there as much as I was."

When it dawned on him about what I was talking about, he grinned and I swear I saw a blush rise to his cheeks, if ever so slightly. After rolling his eyes, he saw the water bottle and picked it up. Nodding, he took it into the living room and shoved it in his bag.

I almost had my laughing under control when he came back in.

"Help yourself to some cereal. I don't have much for breakfast, so if you want more you'll have to wait till you can go out on your own to get it." I said, with intermittent giggles.

"Cereal's fine." He replied, then helped himself to cereal and coffee.

When we both finished breakfast, we gathered what we needed to take to the warehouse, put our shoes on, and headed out.

This time, we didn't run into any more of my neighbors.

Walking out of the building, I saw a car in the parking lot that wasn't there the previous night...and I'd seen it before.

Stopping just outside the door, I stared at the dark blue Cadillac. Ian stopped a few feet in front of me, then turned back to face me.

"Jack?"

"The Cadillac's here." I said simply. He'd know what that meant.

Ian's brow furrowed and he just looked at me.

"Ignore it. He won't do anything while I'm with you." He said.

"What if he did something to my car?"

"He wouldn't. May have bugged or put a tracking device on it somewhere, but as long as you don't say anything stupid and don't take any detours, we should be fine." He attempted to grin at me.

I nodded, not exactly sure of his reasoning since I didn't know the guy, but unlocked my car and we both got in.

After buckling and starting the car, I turned on the CD player and backed out of my parking spot. Exiting the lot, I headed across D.C. to the warehouse.

When we got to about the third red traffic light, I took a look in my rearview mirror to see the Cadillac a few cars behind us. I glanced at Ian to get his attention, then motioned my head behind us. He looked behind, then looked back at me as the light turned green.

"Just drive." He said, facing forward again.

Nodding with a sigh, I continued to drive to the warehouse. In a few more minutes, I pulled around the back of the warehouse and parked my Yaris. Ian and I both got out of the car and headed to the front door. On the way, I noticed that Phil was already there since I saw his red Audi parked near my car.

Ian went to open the door and let me in first. As I turned my head to thank him, I saw the Cadillac park where I first saw it. I practically ran through the door and waited for Ian to close it. When he did, I turned towards him and ran my hand through my hair.

"That fucker followed us here." I growled.

Just when I was getting my high stress levels under control, too.

"I know, Jack. Just stay near us and we'll keep you out of harm's way." He said, approaching me. Ian turned me towards the stairs and put his arm around my shoulders. "You worry way too much, Jackal."

As soon as his arm rested on my shoulders, I almost swooned, then got a hold of myself when he used my unappreciated nickname. I hit his chest lightly with the back of my hand.

"You should know better than to call me that." I reprimanded with a grin.

Ian laughed, then squeezed my shoulder before letting his arm drop as we went up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, I went right over to my desk, while Ian kept going and went over to talk to Phil before heading back to his office.

As I set my messenger bag next to my chair, I turned on my computer and its monitor. It was then that I saw the blinking light on the answering machine. Grabbing a pen and my small notebook, I played the messages. There were five this time: one for an update on our new microwave, one for a doctor's appointment reminder for Viktor, one for Phil (from who I now knew as his cousin), and two men answering the ad Viktor put in the newspaper about Shaw's Corvette.

Grabbing one of the brightly colored pieces of paper somewhere on my desk, I wrote a note to Viktor about his reminder. I would drop it off at his desk when I went to talk to Ian.

"Phil." I called over to him. "Your cousin called again. She seemed royally pissed off this time."

He rolled his eyes. "All right. Thanks, Jack."

"Hey, that's what I'm here for." I said with a grin and a slight shrug of my shoulders.

"And you're good at it." He praised.

"Aww, thanks, Philly."

At just that moment, I heard footfalls on the stairs and feared the worst. However, when Shippen appeared at the top and gave me a smile and a wave, I relaxed a little.

Getting up from my chair, I grabbed my note to Viktor and my notebook of messages for Ian, then meandered back to his office. On the way, I taped Viktor's note on his monitor.

Walking the few steps to Ian's office, I knocked on the door.

"Come in." He called.

I opened the door and entered, then closed it and started talking right away. "Okay, only three messages today. Two are from some guys who are interested in...in the Corvette..." I almost said 'Shaw's car', but I wasn't sure how Ian would react to that, "And the microwave arrived in their warehouse and will be shipped out soon. That's all."

"You sure _that's all_?" Ian questioned.

"...Yes."

What was he getting at...?

Just then, the phone rang, ending 'Mysterious Ian' for the time being.

"Mind if I take it in here?" I asked him, pointing to his phone.

"Of course." He said with a lopsided grin. He turned the phone to me and I answered it.

"Jacquelin Ferdinand. How can I help you?" I said into the receiver.

"_Ah, Miss Ferdinand. How nice it is to hear your voice._"

I froze and stared at Ian, my mouth dropping open.

"Collins." I whispered into the phone and Ian at the same time.

"_I told you before to call me 'Tom', darlin'._" Collins said and I swear I could hear the smirk on his face.

As he replied to me, I saw Ian's grin disappear and his whole face turned into the epitome of pissed off beyond all belief.

"If you want to talk to Mr. Howe, I'm afraid-" I started, but was quickly cut off by Collins.

"_Oh, no. I didn't call to talk to him. I called to talk to you._"

That was like the proverbial nail in the coffin, but I kept my cool somehow and politely told him to fuck off.

"I'm sorry...Tom...but I'm very busy and have to get back to work."

"_Well, then how about you meet me for dinner? We can talk then._" He suggested, attempting to be suave.

"I-I don't think that's a good idea."

"_Why not?_"

"I have way too much work to do and it doesn't seem right to me to have dinner with my boss' clients." I said looking Ian in his gray-green eyes, letting him know what Collins' intentions were.

"_Then it should seem wrong for you to fuck your boss, too._" He sounded pissed off because of my rejection.

I was pissed off now.

"It is...and I'm not. And quite frankly that is none of your god-damned business." I paused for just a second. "Now, I'm going to hang up because I have work to do. Good-bye, Mr. Collins." I slammed the phone back on the holder, then held my face in my hands as I sat heavily in one of the chairs in front of Ian's desk.

"Jack?" Ian asked tentatively.

I slid my hands down my face so just my eyes were visible to him. I looked at him and sighed into my hands.

"What did he want?" He asked in a low voice.

I lowered my hands from my face to rest in my lap, where I locked the fingers on both hands together, tightly.

"He wanted to talk to me. When I told him I was busy, he asked me out to dinner. I refused and he seemed to get angry, then accused me of sleeping with you. I got pissed, then hung up." I said with lots of sighs.

Ian turned his face away from me, then grumbled something that involved a lot of expletives before looking back at me.

"Good for you. Now more than ever, if you go ANYWHERE, have at least one of us with you." He said, looking back at me with a grim expression.

I nodded, then stood to go back out to my desk.

"Anything else?" I asked, stopping at the door.

"Just take it easy and keep your eyes open." He said with a sigh.

Nodding again, I opened the door and headed back to my desk. I barely registered that Viktor arrived at some point while I was in the office. At my desk, I stared at the screensaver for an unknown amount of time, thinking, before I actually started doing anything remotely productive.

While surfing the net, I finally found the perfect present for my father for his birthday, so I ordered it and had it sent to the warehouse. I then did what I normally did during my day.

Around five o'clock that evening, Ian told us all to pack up for the night. We all left the warehouse about half an hour later. After our good-bye's at the back of the warehouse, Ian and I got in his car this time and he drove us back to my apartment. We decided that we would take my car every other day, just to be safe.

Just before we got back to my apartment's parking lot, I took a look behind us, but didn't see the Cadillac. I let out a sigh of relief as we pulled into a parking spot. We walked up to my apartment in silence and I opened the door once we got there. After we walked in, I closed and locked the door, then leaned my back against it, closing my eyes for a moment. I then pushed away from the door when I heard Ian stop moving around. Walking towards the hallway, I didn't even stop when I talked to him.

"I'm going to take a shower. Help yourself to anything you want." I said, then headed to my bedroom to get underwear and my robe.

Once I had both items, I turned on my heel and went to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I turned on the shower to a hot temperature, then stripped off my clothes and stepped in. For some time, I just stood under the steady stream, hoping it would wash away my current stress and problems. After washing, and the water turning cold, I decided to get out. I dried off, then put my underwear and robe on and left the bathroom, steam following me as I walked out.

Walking into the living room, I found Ian sitting on the couch, watching TV, and eating something he found for dinner. I continued walking into the kitchen and grabbed myself a glass of water. I wasn't hungry, so I thought I would just go to bed early...if I could sleep, that is.

Once finished with my water, I put the glass in the sink, then sauntered back to the living room, where I stood to the side of the couch.

"Ian, I'm going to bed." I said, solemnly.

"You should eat something before you do." He said, turning his head to look at me.

"I'm not hungry." I replied quietly.

He gave a searching look before nodding. "Good night, then."

"Good night." I whispered, then walked back to my bedroom.

In my bedroom, I closed the door, then let my robe slide from my shoulders and hung it on the back of the door. Not even bothering to put my pajamas on, I turned my covers down and hopped in. I reached over to turn off the light, then pulled the covers up to my chin. I turned on my side, facing away from the door, and attempted to settle in for the night.

I guess it was about an hour later when I heard Ian shuffling around out in the hall. Soon after, there was light knock on my door.

"What?" I grumbled with a sigh, turning to glare at the door.

"I want to talk to you." Ian said to the door.

I sighed again, then flopped on my back, pulling my covers up so we wouldn't have a repeat of this morning.

"Fine. Come in." I said when ready.

He turned the knob, then opened the door, sticking his head in before bringing his whole body in. I lifted my head and saw him walk to my bed, where he sat on the edge, near my hip.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" He asked, not even waiting for me to say something.

Almost anything.

"What?"

Shit...was that out loud?

"Nothing. I can't tell you EVERYTHING, but if I feel the need, I might." I said, tucking my sheet under my armpits, and sitting up.

"Then tell me what's bothering you." He pleaded.

"It's Collins. I just don't know how to deal with him." I sighed, yet again.

"We'll get rid of him...eventually. It might take some time, but we will. We..._I_," he corrected, "want to keep you safe. Collins can be a real bastard if he doesn't get what he wants."

"I know. You told me that before." I said softly. "Can we get new phones at the warehouse? Ones with caller I.D.? Then someone else can pick up the phone when he calls."

"Yeah, we can get new phones. Don't know why I didn't think of that before."

"Good. That'll help...a little." I said, with a forced grin.

I sighed, once more, blowing a piece of hair out of my eyes on the exhale.

"So, what do we do with him until he's gone?" I asked.

"Do what I keep telling you: stay near one of us and don't be alone. Use your head when you're out in public." He said it like it was common knowledge.

I bet he's never had a stalker before.

"Easy for you to say. He's not trying to get into _your_ pants." I challenged.

"No, thankfully…just trust us."

"I do trust you. All of you. If I didn't, I wouldn't be hanging around you guys." I grinned.

"Good." Ian replied, also with a grin. "Now get some rest." He put his hand on my bare shoulder.

I not only wanted a hug, but I kinda needed one. Since Ian was the only person present, I might as well get it from him. And it was a shit-tacular day...I deserved one.

"I need a hug." I said softly, still grinning.

Ian practically jumped on me when I said it, but I could tell he was restraining himself. Instead, he stood to move up the bed, closer to me, then sat back down.

I held the covers to my chest with my left hand. "Unless we want a repeat of this morning, I'm keeping my hand here." I said with a smirk.

"Fair enough." He replied, then leaned towards me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

With my right arm, I wrapped it under his and splayed my hand on his back, near his shoulder blade. Thinking that I might as well make the most of our positioning, I rested my chin on his left shoulder. I closed my eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, trying to release some of the tension and crap of the past few days.

Ian rubbed my back, then slowly released me, letting his hands drag across my back. Before he pulled his head away, he turned and kissed my cheek. He then let go of me and moved back so I could look at him, and him at me.

My hand was still on him, near his ribs, but I just stared at him, dumbfounded. He's never kissed me before…not even on the cheek.

He smirked at me, then got off my bed.

"Good night, Jack." He said, then went leave my bedroom, closing the door behind him.

I continued to stare at the door long after he left. The covers eventually slid down, which made me cold and snapped me out of my daze. Shaking my head violently, I pulled the covers up over my head and slid down into my bed, curling into a ball, grinning to myself.

Any day that involved physical contact with Ian was a good day. And that must have been the best day I've had since I'd met him.

Once my mind calmed down a while later, I finally fell asleep…replaying our little exchange the whole night.

* * *

**A/N:**_ More awkwardness! It'll let up...eventually._

_Aha! I'm currently watching The Hitcher (it's pretty dumb, but it's the only thing on TV right now). And I almost forgot Sean Bean looked incredibly sexy in that Trans AM during the car chase. Mmmm..._

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed, favored, and alerted!_


	14. Houston, We Have Messages and Deliveries

**A/N: **_So I had thee strangest reason for wanting to write and update more of this story: I was driving behind a Lincoln MKZ yesterday and was like 'Huh, I want to write about Ian and Jack'...so I did._

_I will probably be updating in about 2 days because I really want to get the next chapter up. (I wanted to put it with this one, but this chapter was getting way too long.) So keep a look out for that._

_Until then: Enjoy!_

**/X\X/X\X/X\**

The next two days were very monotonous. Ian and I would wake up, get ready, then drive to the warehouse. At the warehouse, Ian would go to his office and I would sit at my desk, answering the phone and delivering messages to the guys. Ian would then talk to the guys about Collins' obsession with me and ask them for any updates involving the man.

Upon arriving on the second day, there were at least two messages on the answering machine for me from Collins. I ignored them, but informed the men that he was getting more and more demanding...and that he was sounding angry and threatening. Because of the way he was leaving messages, I flat out refused to answer the phone, no matter who was on the other end. The other four didn't seem to be bothered by having to answer the phone, though, which was a good thing.

Every time the phone rang, my heart would beat faster and my eyes would dart to whoever decided to answer, silently asking if it was the dreaded man.

The same went for whenever someone came up the stairs.

After the second day (and Ian and I were back at my apartment), I took to my back room and went to work checking up on the paintings. Before planting myself in front of said paintings, I changed the CD out of the player from the Rolling Stones to something a little more calming: Josh Groban's _Closer_ album.

I hit the play button, then sat down at the smallest paintings. I sat Lotus style, placed my palms on my knees, closed my eyes, then took a very deep breath. Releasing it slowly, I opened my eyes and stared at a nail hole in the wall for a few minutes before turning my attention back to the paintings.

I heard Ian trip over something in the living room, so I turned my head towards the door.

"You all right?" I asked, raising my voice so he could hear me.

"Yes." He answered through gritted teeth. "Just keep your bag by the door from now on, okay?"

I snorted, then rolled my eyes.

"Who are you? My housekeeper?"

"No, but are you trying to kill me?"

"No, but..."

Damn...

"Fine. Just watch where you're going next time."

He grunted in response, then went back to the kitchen to fix us something for dinner. He told me in the car on the way back from the warehouse that since I was no chef, he was going to make something.

I didn't argue with him.

So while Ian was fixing dinner, I was checking the paintings. While I was putting check marks in boxes and flipping pages, I absently hummed to the music...since I didn't know the words considering the lyrics were (most of the time) sung in Italian, French, or Spanish.

After about an hour, Ian called me for dinner. I set my stuff down where it was and shut off the CD player. Walking out towards the kitchen, I smelled something delicious. Better than the smoke that normally fills my apartment when I cook.

"What on god's green earth did you manage to make in this place. It smells amazing." I praised.

Ian chuckled while he dished out the entrée.

"Fettuccini Alfredo with chicken." He answered, simply.

I stood on my tiptoes to look over his shoulder at the plates of pasta. Sure enough, there was the Fettuccini with pieces of chicken tossed in.

"You made this from scratch?" I asked, still over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I actually found a box in your cabinet." He said, turning his head to look at me. "The chicken was in the fridge and amazingly unspoiled."

After turning his head, we locked eyes; our lips were only a few inches apart. I gulped then stepped back, blushing slightly, and waited for him to finish dishing out the meal.

I went over to the fridge in the mean time and took two beers out of it. Twisting the tops off, I tossed them in the sink, then walked out to the living room.

Moments later, Ian brought the plates of food in and we ate dinner, while watching television.

"I think it would be okay for me to return to my loft tomorrow." Ian stated once we finished eating.

I froze with the bottle of beer halfway to my lips.

"I want you to come with me. That way you'll feel safer. There are security cameras all over my building, so if anything happens it'll be recorded and the authorities can be brought in if necessary." He added.

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish a few times, unable to speak.

"For how long?" I finally asked.

He shrugged. "How ever long it takes to get rid of Collins...or until you get tired of me. Which ever comes first." He actually smirked at that.

"Have an estimate?"

"Nope. But not too long, I hope."

I nodded, looking down at the beer in my hands, thinking for a few moments.

_Would_ it be safe for me to go with Ian? Would things be even weirder between us on his own turf? Could I stay sane being there with him?

Those were only a few of the questions running through my mind…

"Come with me, Jack." Ian said softly.

Immediately, my mind went into the gutter to think of the sexual aspects of that phrase and I almost laughed...almost.

I slowly looked up into Ian's gray-green eyes searching for something to tell me not to go. I didn't find anything, so I sighed before speaking.

"All right, Ian. I'll go with you." I finally answered.

He smiled wide at me, then offered to take care of the dishes. While he was in the kitchen, he still talked to me.

"Get your things together tonight, so we don't have to come back here after we leave the warehouse." He instructed.

"What about the paintings?" I questioned. I wasn't about to leave them here, unattended.

Ian paused before turning to look at me.

"How many are there?"

"About fifteen or so. They can all fit in the trunk of my car."

"Okay. We'll take them, too."

I smiled this time, then got off the couch. I said to Ian that I was going to take a shower, get my shit together, then go to bed. So I did just that, going to bed fairly late that night.

The following morning, Ian barged into my room, and shook me awake.

"Jack, it's time to get up." He said in my ear.

"Mmm...gimme a few minutes." I slurred, pulling the covers over my head.

Ian chuckled. "I'll give you five minutes, then I'm coming back in."

"Fine." I grumbled, pulling my knees up to my chest.

I was awake, but decided to stay in bed, just so Ian would come back to 'wake me up'.

Sure enough, five minutes later, Ian came back in and sat on the edge of my bed near my waist. I felt the bed sink more near my head, so I had to wonder what he was doing.

"All right, Jack. Your five minutes are up. Time to rise and shine, sleepyhead." He said, pulling the covers down so he could see me.

I turned onto my other side to face him. He was lying on his side, holding his head with a propped up elbow, and grinning at me.

"Well, good morning." He said.

"Morning." I grinned, trying to hide my blushing cheeks under the covers.

"Come on. Let's get going." He patted my shoulder, then got up from the bed.

I stretched then threw the covers back and got up. Going over to my window, I opened the curtain, then turned to Ian.

"Did you eat yet?" I asked.

"No. I'm in the process of making it, though. Wanted to make sure you were up first." He smirked, leaning on the doorframe.

"Very funny." I said, crossing my arms over my chest and walking towards him. "Now get out of my room, so I can get ready." I pushed him out gently, then closed the door on him.

After getting dressed in a pair of dark khaki cargo pants and a purple polo shirt, I took my travel bag full of clothes and necessities out to the living room, where I set it next to my messenger bag. Ian was finished with breakfast (which was two pieces of French toast for each of us), so we ate, then gathered my friend's paintings near the door. After a check to make sure I had my stuff, Ian grabbed his own bag and a few paintings. I picked up my two bags, then the rest of the paintings and we headed down to my car. We shoved the paintings gently into the trunk of my Yaris, then threw our bags in the backseat. I got behind the wheel, while Ian got in on the passenger's side, then I started the car and we drove over to the warehouse.

Once at the warehouse and parked, we got out of the car, leaving all of our stuff in it, then walked around to the front of the building and went in.

Ian headed upstairs right away, while I went to the back of the first floor to the alcove kitchen. I was thirsty, so I made some coffee (enough for all of us), then grabbed a bottle of water. After the coffee was done, I poured myself a cup, then took it and the water upstairs to my desk.

I said 'hello' to Viktor, Phil, and Shippen, also telling them that there was coffee made. Viktor practically ran down the stairs to get some, making me laugh.

When I sat down at my desk, I grabbed my notebook and a pen, then checked all of the messages on the answering machine...and there were quite a few.

Most of them were for me...from Collins.

After sifting through the shit from Collins (including one where he called me 'hot stuff', which is such a turn-off), it came down to four messages that meant anything. One said that our microwave should arrive by that day or the next, two from two other people asking about the Corvette, and one for Shippen about a new cell phone he bought.

Instead of just telling Shippen, I wrote the message down on a piece of normal eight and a half by eleven inch sheet of paper, then folded it into a sad excuse for a paper airplane. I sent it flying in his direction, but since it was a terrible plane to begin with, it ended up taking a nosedive right off the edge of my desk. Grumbling, I got up and went to retrieve it. I took a few steps closer to Shippen's desk, then threw it more gently than the first time. This time it sailed over to him, landing on the corner of his desk.

I didn't know he was watching me the whole time, either.

"Thanks, Jackal." He snorted.

"Shut up...and you're welcome." I responded, then went back to my desk to reach over and grab the notebook.

With it in my hands, I went back to Ian's office and let him know about the microwave and two other offers.

"Oh, and Collins will not let up. There were five messages just for me from him, asking me out. He even called me 'hot stuff' in one." I thought it might be good to mention it.

Ian frowned. "He'll never learn." He muttered more to himself than me. "Don't worry about it."

"I know. It's actually getting quite tiring." I said with a tight smile.

He nodded and looked back at his computer screen. I decided to leave to get some work done, leaving the door open per Ian's request. As soon as I walked out of the office, a delivery guy came up the stairs.

"Hello." He said, noticing me walking towards him.

"Hi. What can I do for you?" I asked.

"Just sign, please." He said politely, handing me an electric clipboard.

I signed it then handed it back to him.

"I'll be right back. It's a little heavy." He said, taking it back.

"It must be our microwave. I'll meet you downstairs."

Nodding, the guy went back down to bring in the box. I followed him and held the door open for him while he wheeled the delivery in. When he asked where to put it, I said to take it to the back and leave it outside the alcove. He did so then wheeled his dolly back towards the door.

"Thanks a lot." I called after him.

"No problem, ma'am." He replied.

I half expected him to tip a hat he wasn't wearing.

Returning upstairs, I stood at the top of the stairs and held my arms wide.

"Houston, we have a microwave." I announced with a smile.

"It's about time." I heard Phil say to his computer.

With a laugh, I went back to my desk and back to work.

Around lunchtime, I realized that I left my CDs at my apartment. I asked Ian if I could drive back to get a few.

"As long as someone goes with you." Was his reply.

Why he didn't volunteer himself, I don't know.

"Okay, I'll take Shippen. He can be very threatening when needed."

Ian nodded, so I went out to talk to Shippen.

"Hey, Ship. I need you to do a favor." I said, standing next to his desk.

"Yeah?" He replied, looking up from his computer monitor.

"I need you to come with me back to my apartment. I left some CDs there that I can't live without."

Shippen agreed, so I grabbed my keys out of my messenger bag and we left the warehouse, jumped in my car, and headed back across D.C.

* * *

**A/N: **_There you go. Just hang on for another 2 days and I'll update. Promise._

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed, favored, and alertered!_


	15. Trashed and Trapped

**A/N: **_So, I'm a few hours later than what I hoped. (I had a surprise visit to my brother's.)_

_There's actually something happening in this chapter! Le Gasp!_

_

* * *

_  
Once parked outside of my building, Shippen took one look up at the building and made a face.

"You live here?" He asked.

"Yes. It's the one place I can afford. And before you ask, Ian does pay me well, I just don't need anything bigger." I defended.

Shippen put his hands up in defense. We then walked into the building and up to my apartment. Upon reaching it, I saw that my door wasn't latched and the metal part attached to the frame (where my door locks) was missing. It looked as if it was broken into, roughly. I stopped and looked up at Shippen.

"What?" He asked, looking at me once I stopped.

"My door is open and I know for a fact that I closed and locked it when we left." I said quietly, not sure if someone was still in there or not.

Shippen looked back at the door, then reached behind him and under his jacket. He was going for his gun.

"Stay out here." He instructed, bringing the gun in front of him.

I nodded, not about to disagree with him.

He approached the door like a S.W.A.T. guy from the movies, then disappeared as he went into my apartment. It was a grueling several minutes later before he came back out telling me that it was safe to go in. I did so and as soon as I looked in, I gasped.

My place was trashed.

In my living room alone, my couch was torn apart and not just the cushions were thrown around, but the actual couch was ripped and stuffing was coming out. My television was smashed and lying screen down on the floor. My DVDs were all over the floor, some broken and out of the boxes, while others were just lying scattered around. The blanket my mother knit for me wasn't in sight and I was terrified to know where it was.

Moving into the kitchen, all of my cabinets were open. Plates, bowls, and cups were shattered on the floor and counter. Some were still together, but they were the ugly ones I never used. My fridge was open and all the beer in there was gone, most of the other contents were all over my kitchen.

Dejectedly, I walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom. My shower curtain was ripped down and in shards around the small room. The toilet seat was only hanging on by one screw and the lid was missing. There was a chip taken out of the corner of the sink, like someone had taken a hammer to it.

Backing up, I turned and walked straight into my workroom. It was already a mess, but now it looked like a tornado went through it. A few cases of beer were gone; only the case that had three bottles in it was left. All of my crap was scattered about the room and boxes were crushed. My CD player was smashed just like my television. Good thing I took the CD out the night before.

Thank God I took my friend's paintings with me that morning or else they would either be destroyed or worse: stolen and sold as someone else's work.

My workroom was a lost cause, so I moved on to my bedroom...which I was dreading.

My bed was a mess; the covers were all over the floor and my pillows were no more. I could see the fluff from them in the corner of the room. The mattress was tipped to the far side of the room. My closet was wide open and any clothes that were left were about the room as well. Looking at my dresser drawers, two of them were there, just open, while the other two were smashed on the other side of the room, which lead me to think that they were thrown against the far wall. The clothing and underwear that was left wasn't in the drawers either and I had no idea where any of it was. The curtains were ripped and halfway torn off the wall.

The last thing my vision saw was the blanket my mom knit...

My eyes started to tear up as I saw the blanket unraveled, ripped, torn, and in a complete jumble next to my dresser. I slowly walked over to it and picked it up gingerly. Clutching it in my hands, I backed up and sat on the box spring of my bed. I stared at the blanket as I heard Shippen walk into the room.

"Jack?" He asked.

"Yeah, Ship." I said tightly, trying not to cry.

"I called Ian. He's on his way over." He paused before continuing. "Are you all right?"

I looked up at him as I stood, tears clouding the edges of my vision.

"This is my home, Shippen. It took me years to get it this way! Now fucking look at it!" I yelled, out of anger, frustration, and sadness. "It'll take me years more to get it back to the way it was."

I couldn't take it any more and let the floodgates open. I sat heavily back down on the box spring (still clutching what was left of my blanket) and brought my hands up to cover my face as I sobbed into the yarn of my blanket.

My mom's hard work on the blanket and my hard work on my apartment were all destroyed.

I felt Shippen sit on the box spring next to me. He put his arm around my shoulders and I tilted my head to lean against him as I cried.

He attempted to comfort me until Ian arrived, which was a few minutes later.

Ian walked into my bedroom where Shippen was still sitting with me, his arm no longer on my shoulders. I was reduced to the occasional sob and hiccups.

"Call the police and see if any of the neighbors saw or heard anything." Ian instructed Shippen.

He nodded, then patted my back softly before getting up and walking out of the room.

Ian then looked at me and his eyes softened.

"Jack, I'm so sorry." He said, walking towards me.

His sincere sympathy made me tear up again. I stood, dropping what was left of my blanket on the bed, and took a few steps to meet him, then threw my arms around his neck. His arms wrapped around my back and waist and held me tight as I wept onto his shoulder. Ian rested his head on my shoulder, tilting it towards my own head.

Once my legs started to give out on me, Ian shifted his arms (one behind my shoulders, the other behind my knees) and picked me up. He carried me the few feet over to the bed and sat down, setting me down next to him, my thigh touching his.

When Ian set me down, I took my arms away from his neck and wrapped them around my body, hugging myself. Ian put his arm around my shoulders and rested his forehead on the back of my left shoulder (the shoulder closest to him) since I was hunched over. His comfort had an amazing calming effect on me and my crying slowed rather swiftly.

Within a few more minutes, we heard Shippen come back into my apartment.

How did I know it was him? He has a very distinct stride and footfall pattern.

Ian lifted his head before Shippen came back in my bedroom.

"Will you be okay for a while?" He asked me quietly.

I nodded, running the backs of my hands across my eyes to get rid of the last of the tears.

Shippen came back and stopped in the doorway. Ian and I both looked up at him.

"The neighbors that are home didn't hear or see anything…at least anything they were willing to tell me." He said.

I gave a shaky sigh, then heard the police sirens outside. Standing up, I went over to the window and saw a patrol car in the parking lot and two police get out.

"The cops are here." I said softly, my throat raw.

The two nodded, then Ian stood up, and we walked out of my bedroom and completely out of my apartment to wait for the cops.

"Maybe you guys shouldn't be here. After all, you just recent got out of jail." I said in a monotone voice as we waited in the hallway. The two men were flanking me.

"We're not leaving you, Jack." Ian said.

"We haven't done anything wrong." Shippen added.

I nodded once, then whispered "thanks, guys" as the police reached my floor.

The first cop, a guy who looked to be in his late-thirties, asked if it was my apartment and if he could take a look around. After I nodded, the guy went in, while his partner, a younger guy (maybe late twenties or early thirties), asked if he could ask me some questions. I gave my consent and he pulled out a notebook about the same size of the one I used at the warehouse.

He asked the normal questions: "Were you home when this happened?" "Was anything taken?" Stuff of that nature. Then he asked the one question I wasn't sure how to answer: "Do you have any idea who could have done this?"

I thought it over and the only name I could come up with was Collins...but would he stoop to this level just to get my attention and affection? I decided not to mention him.

"I can't think of anyone." I told the officer.

He put his notebook away, then handed me a card with his name and phone number on it. "Okay, we're going to have a look around and see if we can figure this out. We'll keep you informed. Do you have somewhere you can stay until this is sorted out?"

"Yeah. I was planning to stay at a friend's place tonight, anyway." I discreetly glanced at Ian.

I wasn't about to tell him that that friend was my boss and secret crush.

"All right. Is there anything you need before we block this off?" The officer jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to my apartment.

"There were some CDs I want, which is why I came back. Other than that, nothing at the moment." I answered.

"Come on." He said, then walked into my place.

I turned to Ian and Shippen. "Stay here. I know exactly where I put the CDs I want."

I didn't wait for an answer from either of them and followed the cop in. Just walking through the trash that was now my home made me feel depressed. I headed back to my bedroom and into my closet. I sat on the floor and dug in the back to get to some of my CDs. They were back far enough that the jackasses who broke into my house didn't find them. This was where I kept my favorite CDs. I grabbed four of them, then headed out, saying a thank you and good bye to the police still in my apartment.

Back out in the hall, Shippen, Ian, and I left the building and made our way back to the warehouse. Shippen joined me in my car, while Ian followed. I set my CDs on the floor behind me and was completely silent on the drive back.

At the warehouse, Ian parked right next to me, and we all got out and walked back in through the front door. Immediately, I saw the box the microwave came in sitting in the middle of the floor at the back, surrounded by Styrofoam. Phil then walked out of the alcove.

"Microwave's hooked up and ready for use." He said with a self-satisfied grin.

"Good job, Phil." I praised with a forced grin.

Shippen and Ian nodded, then went upstairs. I walked over to Phil and ultimately into the kitchen. Going into the fridge, I grabbed a water bottle, then leaned against it. Phil walked in.

"Everything all right?" He asked.

"My apartment got broken into and trashed." I said, bluntly.

"Oh shit." Was all he said.

"Yeah." I mumbled, then looked at the microwave. "It looks good."

"Yup. It was fairly easy to put in, too."

"Nice work...until someone explodes something in it, that is."

Phil laughed, then patted me on the shoulder.

"I gotta clean this shit up, then get back to work. I'll see ya in a few." He said, then walked out of the alcove, picked up the garbage and mess he made while switching out the microwaves before walking off somewhere.

I stayed in the kitchen for a few minutes longer, then took my water bottle with me as I went to return to my desk. As soon as I exited the alcove, I heard the front door open, then close. Thinking it was Viktor or Phil coming back in from somewhere, I continued on, staring at the bottle in my hands.

Boy, was I _WAY _off.

I glanced up when I saw clothing out of the corner of my eye and froze. Collins was stalking towards me. I backed up against the wall and dropped the water bottle. Collins stood right in front of me before grabbing my wrists and pressing his body up against mine, pinning me between him and the wall. My eyes widened and I gasped.

"Hello, sweetheart." He sneered.

"What the fuck do you want, prick?" I asked.

So, maybe it wasn't a good idea to call him a prick, but I could have cared less.

He rose an eyebrow and smirked evilly. "Hmm, I thought that would have been obvious, Jackie."

"DO NOT call me that." I said through gritted teeth, coming back to my senses.

"Well, Jacquelin, aren't you a little spitfire." He continued to smirk.

"Fuck off."

"I'd rather just fuck." He said quietly, bringing his face closer to mine, and grinding his hips into me for emphasis. I could feel his erection press against me. Not pleasant.

If I were more animalistic, I would have bit his nose...that's how close he was. I chose to ignore his hips.

"Why don't you go home." I said, trying to keep my anger in check.

"Only if you come with me."

"I don't think so."

His smirk disappeared and his eyes became cold as he leaned harder into me. His right leg moved in between mine and pressed against my crotch, making me suck in a sharp breath.

"Then let this be your final warning..." he sneered, pulling his head back slightly. Before he could continue, I cut in.

"'Final warning'?" I questioned, confused. "What were my other warnings?"

"Let's just say I actually have somewhere to sleep tonight. Maybe you should come stay with me." He said, cryptically.

I looked at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he meant. Then it dawned on me.

"_You_ trashed my apartment? You fuck!" I exclaimed.

I wondered if the guys upstairs heard me...I really hoped they did.

Collins quickly let go of my left wrist and brought his hand up to cover my mouth. "Hush now, darlin'." He said softly.

Wow, this guy was really bipolar...going from false kindness to anger and back again in practically the blink of an eye.

I should have bit his hand. I lifted my hand to grab his wrist and attempted to pull it away.

"Now listen. This is your last warning: if you do not call me before you leave here tonight, telling me you will join me for dinner and more, you are going to be in a lot of trouble." He was close to my face again, staring directly into my eyes, and was dead serious.

My eyes widened and he let go of my other wrist. Sliding the hand that was on my mouth to the side of my face, he brought his other hand up to the other side of my face, then kissed me...hard. I shoved him away via the shoulders. He just smirked at me, then turned and left the building.

As soon as he turned, I bolted up the stairs.

* * *

**A/N: **_So, yeah...gross and disturbing._

_Please let me know what you think about this chapter, please. I'd really like to know.  
_


	16. Keeping Conscious

**A/N: **_Blech! Sorry for the delay. Life got in the way (along with other writing); the past month has been like hell on earth for me..._

_WARNING: mucho, mucho violence towards the end of this chapter!_

_

* * *

_"Ian!" I yelled in distress, then tripped on the last step, slamming my hands on the ground to prevent smashing my face. I stood up and saw that all four men were standing, looking at me. Ian was walking speedily towards me.

"Jack, what...?" He tried to ask.

"Collins...here."

He frowned and looked ready to kill. "Where?"

"Just left." I said, sitting on the top step.

"Get in my office." Ian said, then sprinted past me and down the stairs, taking at least four at a time, and went after Collins.

Viktor, Phil, and Shippen all came over to me.

"What happened, Jack?"

"Are you all right?"

"What's going on?"

They asked all at once.

"Collins just attacked me downstairs. He wants me to sleep with him. Not going to fucking happen. Ever! He said if I didn't call him with my mind changed by tonight, I'm going to be in big trouble, as he put it." I explained shortly.

"Oh, Jack..." Shippen said, kneeling down next to me.

"He broke into my apartment, Ship." I said, quietly.

Shippen frowned. "Come on. Let's get you on the couch."

He and Phil each took one of my arms and helped me to my feet. Phil let go of my arm and went down to see if Ian needed help. Shippen put an arm around me to help get me to Ian's office, where I sat on the couch.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"I'm just shook up and feeling a little violated, but I'm okay." I answered.

"It'll be all right. We're here to look after you." He grinned.

"I know. Thanks." I put my hand on his arm briefly, before taking it away and sighing.

A few minutes later, Ian and Phil came back up the stairs. They exchanged a few words, then Phil went back to his desk, while Ian came back to his office. He nodded towards his door for Shippen to get out. When he did, Ian closed the door, then sat down next to me on the couch.

"Did you get 'im?" I asked softly.

"No, I got out there and his car was at the end of the street." He replied, running his hands through his shaggy hair. "Are you all right?" He asked, turning his head to look at me.

"Like I told Shippen: I'm just shook up and feeling a bit violated, but I'm okay." I said, looking down at my hands.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ian frown. "What happened down there?"

I told him of what happened between Collins and I only a few minutes ago. Even though I didn't want to, I even told him, haltingly, what he physically did to me; his 'kiss' and advances on me were disgusting.

"He was the one that broke into my apartment and trashed it, Ian." I said, looking towards him, but at his knees.

"What?"

"He practically came right out and said it. It was him, I know it." I said, feeling my throat start to tighten and the edges of my vision start to blur just thinking about my home.

"Did you call the police?" he asked.

"No." I whispered, my voice thick with tears.

Ian moved closer and put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned my head on his shoulder.

I thought about taking his hand in mine, but decided against it since we were just friends...unfortunately.

We sat like that for a few minutes, before I picked up my head. I looked up at Ian as he looked down at me and we grinned at each other.

"I think I'm okay now." I said.

He nodded, then removed his arm from my shoulders. I stood, ready to go back to work...anything to keep my mind off of Collins and what he was capable of doing to me.

"Before you do anything, call the police, Jack. Keep them informed." Ian said, also standing and walked behind his desk.

"Of course." I muttered, then left his office.

I went over to my desk and sat down. Digging through my pocket, I found the business card the officer gave me and I picked up the phone, dialing the number. When he answered, I told him that Collins was the one behind breaking into my apartment and how to contact him. When I got off the phone with him, I ran my hands over my face and growled. Getting up from my chair, I went back downstairs and retrieved my water bottle that I dropped when Collins arrived, then went and plopped on the couch in front of the television. I tilted my head back and rested it on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment, then closing my eyes.

Just as I was about to nod off, there was a buzz that I knew was the signal that someone was at the front door. I wondered briefly if Ian or Phil set the alarm before I got up from the couch. I cautiously went over to the door and looked out of the peephole. It was another delivery guy, so I hit the buttons for the security system, then opened the door.

"Jacquelin Ferdinand?" He asked.

"Yeah, that's me." I said, clearing my throat after. It was a little raw from holding back tears.

"Package for you." He said then handed me the electronic signature clipboard.

I signed it then gave it back to him as he handed me my package. I knew it was the gift for my father, so after saying thanks to the delivery guy, I closed the door, reset the alarm, then went upstairs with the package after grabbing my water bottle. Setting the package behind my desk and setting the bottle on the desk, I turned and looked to see if Ian was in his office.

I was pissed off because of Collins and I didn't want to take his shit anymore.

Ian was there, so I stalked determinedly back and closed the door behind me. I balled my hands into fists, then rested them on his desk as I leaned over it a little.

"Do you still have that 9mm?" I asked, darkly.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Jack." He said, staring back at me.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid." I said, standing upright. "I'll feel better knowing I have something to protect myself with if he comes after me."

He thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "It's still in my bag, in your car."

"Could you get it? I'll give you the keys." I asked.

"Yeah." He said, standing up.

I walked out of his office with him behind me. Going over to my desk, I grabbed my keys out of my bag and looked up to Ian as I handed them to him. He nodded to me, then went downstairs.

Several minutes later, Ian came back up and motioned for me to come with him to his office again. I didn't see the gun or bag in his hands. In his office, he closed the door and stood behind it. He reached around and took the gun out of the back of his pants, then handed it to me.

I looked down at the gun in my hands for a moment, running my thumb over it and checking the ammunition. Ian put his hand over the gun and my hand.

"Jack, please be careful." He said, when I looked up at him.

"I will." I whispered.

When Ian took his hand away from mine and the gun, I put the gun in the back of my own pants.

I'm sure it looked a little odd since my shirts are a little shorter and more form-fitting than the guys' shirts.

"Thank you." I said, looking back at him again.

Ian nodded, then opened the door for me. I went back to my desk and sat in front of my computer for the longest time.

I looked out of the window after a while and saw that it was dark out. Looking at the clock on the wall, I saw that it was around dinnertime. All of the guys were still there working, so I didn't feel like I was holding them back from their own dinners.

Pushing back from the computer, I stretched, then got out of the chair. I was about to go back to Ian's office to see when we were leaving, when he walked out, turning off the lights and closing the door. He walked straight over to me and handed me a key.

"Take your car and go over to my loft. I have to chat with the others before going home." He told me.

"Is that the smartest thing to do? I mean, you said you didn't want me alone." I replied.

I wanted him with me...especially after Collins' threat earlier.

"You'll be fine. Just take your bag up to the loft and leave everything else in the car. We'll get it tomorrow. Run up if you feel like you need to." He said.

...

He was really making me go by myself. I couldn't believe it!

"Why can't I stay with you?" I whined, not on purpose.

"Just go, Jack. I'll be only a few minutes behind you." He pleaded with me.

I stared at him for a few moments before nodding and turning around to shut down my computer. When it turned off, I grabbed my messenger bag, said my 'good night's to the guys, then went down the stairs and exited the warehouse. I swiftly walked around the building to my car.

When I got to my car, I pulled my keys out of my pocket, unlocked the doors, and reached for the handle. Almost as soon as I had my hand on it, I heard a sound to my right. Glancing in that direction, the only thing I saw was a plank of wood.

Someone swung the wood and it hit me in the head, above my right eye, knocking me off my feet. I fell to the ground, onto my back and groaned, trying to stay conscious. My attacker then took the wood and hit my stomach a few times. Hard. He (I could only assume my attacker was male) got rid of the wood when I turned on my side to prevent being hit anymore and used his foot to repeatedly kick me in the chest. When he got tired of that, he rolled me onto my back and stood straddling over my waist.

It hurt to breathe, so I had the feeling he broke a few ribs. I was still trying to remain conscious throughout this whole ordeal, fading in and out. I felt like a rag doll, not being able to make my body move. I couldn't even reach the gun at my back.

My attacker shifted position and moved in between my legs, where he kneeled. He leaned over me, both of his hands on either side of my body, and looked into my face.

"Collins was right about you." He muttered lustily.

I had no idea who this guy was.

He moved his head back along with one hand. Within a moment, there was a knife at my throat; not the way one would slit a throat, but held vertically. My attacker took the knife and dragged it down the center of my body, cutting my shirt, bra, and skin. When he got to my stomach, he pulled the knife away, throwing it somewhere, then ripped my shirt the rest of the way open. He moved my clothing away from me, exposing my breasts to the air...and to his lust-filled gaze. I saw him move his head towards my left breast, so I brought my left hand up and punched him in the face, hoping to do some damage with my weaker hand.

Unfortunately, this only proved to piss the guy off, but I did feel blood on my knuckles (probably from his lip). He stood up and put my hand flat on the ground next to me. With a grunt, he stomped his foot down on my hand.

I screamed loudly in pain, feeling said pain run all the way up my arm and spread through my chest.

I felt tears in my eyes, but wasn't sure if it was from the pain or from the fact that I was about to be raped and couldn't do a damn thing.

My attacker returned my favor and punched me in the face, probably to shut me up. I felt the blackness coming again, but refused to let it win. He quickly moved to my waist and pulled my belt off, tossing it away, then unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. He tugged my pants down to my ankles harshly, followed by my underwear. The 9mm clattered out to my right, near my car. I tried to reach for it, but my attacker kicked it underneath the car (why he didn't pick it up to threaten me with, I have no idea). At this time, I heard what sounded like his own pants being removed, then felt him begin to kneel down.

I took this as my one and only chance to get him away from me. I brought my knee up as hard as I could into his crotch as he was kneeling, so the impact was harder than I could imagine. He groaned and fell to the side.

"Jack!" I faintly heard someone yell from the front of the building.

My attacker took this as his opportunity to get away. I heard him pull up his pants, then run.

I desperately wanted to cover myself up, but my body would not let me do that. Instead, I turned on my side, cradling my left hand against my body, closing my eyes, but not yet ready to give in to the unconscious world.

Hearing running footsteps, I thought maybe my attacker was coming back to finish the job, but when I heard muffled voices, I knew it was my friends.

"Oh, god, Jack!"

That was Ian. I could pick his voice out of anywhere.

I opened my eyes to see a blurry Ian kneeling next to my head.

"Get a car ready! We have to get her to a hospital!" He demanded of someone.

I felt something soft being draped over me to cover my nakedness. I then heard someone's car start.

"Stay with me, Jack." Ian pleaded softly, lifting my head and putting it in his lap. "I need you to stay awake."

"Ian..." I started, but couldn't handle it anymore.

I tried to stay awake, but, again, my body wouldn't let me and I gave into the darkness.

It was just not my day...I shouldn't have left my house.

* * *

**A/N: **_Wow...I should probably stop watching crime shows. Or at least not so many. :P_

_Reviews are greatly appreciated!_

_Thanks to all who've read, reviewed, favored, and alerted!  
_


	17. Wake Up and Breathe

**A/N: **_Sorry for the delay. My muse left for a while, but then we got HBO free for the weekend "Game of Thrones" premiered and I had to watch National Treasure because I wanted more sexy Sean Bean. Then the muse returned.  
And I was waiting on more reviews...which I'd still like more of. I don't know how I'm doing and if I'm keeping your interest if you don't tell me. If no one's reading or people have lost interest, I'll stop writing and take this off the site. I'm hoping I won't have to do that._

_I expect a bunch of reviews after this chapter...it picks up a bit and things will go a little faster from here on out._

_Enjoy.  
_

* * *

The next time I woke up, I kept my eyes closed for a few minutes. I heard a steady beeping and people yelling and talking. When I inhaled through my nose, I could smell...cleanliness.

Finally opening my eyes, everything was blurry for a moment or two until I blinked to clear my vision. My left eye felt swollen. Immediately I knew I was in a hospital. There was a sterile, white blanket over my body and I was in a just as sterile bed, propped up by the tilt of the bed and some pillows.

That beeping sound I heard was my heart rate monitor, which was to my left, along with my I.V. bag and drip. There was a tube going down my throat, so I guess I was having trouble breathing...no surprise since I was kicked in the chest. Glancing down at my left hand, I saw that it was in a splint and bandages; I couldn't pick it up, either. I felt bandages in the middle of my chest, so I assumed they took care of the knife wounds and rib damage there.

I continued looking around the room and figured that I was in a private room since my bed was the only one. The door to the room was far on the left, towards the foot of my bed. Close to it was a small coffee table with a lamp, magazines, and a newspaper sitting on it. Even further away from me, perpendicular to the main door, was another door that lead to what I assumed could be a bathroom. Along the far wall was a television set and two office-like chairs. On my right was a large window with the white vertical blinds drawn. Also on my right was Ian, bent over in a chair, his forehead resting on the edge of my bed, and his hand gripping mine. He seemed to be asleep.

I briefly wondered where the other three were, but then realized that they probably weren't allowed to be in here...but then, how was Ian in here?

I squeezed Ian's hand in an attempt to wake him up. It actually worked and he lifted his head up to look at me.

"Jack." He said, smiling groggily. "How do you feel?"

I could only grunt because of the tube in my throat. Unable to speak, I rolled my eyes. I let go of Ian's hand, then pointed to the tube and made a quick jerking motion with my thumb in the opposite direction.

"You want the tube out?" He questioned.

I nodded stiffly because of the tube.

"Are you sure? Can you breathe all right without it?" He asked.

I just glared at him for a moment, then brought my right hand up to make a motion of writing something. Ian's mouth formed a soft O, then he looked around for paper and a pen. He got out of the chair and walked to the other side of the room, where he grabbed a notepad and pen that sat on the small table. He brought both back over and handed them to me. Taking them from him with my right hand since my left was immobile, I set the pad on my lap then clicked the pen so the tip would pop out.

'_Get a dr. to take this tube out or I'll fucking take it out myself!_' I wrote, then handed the notepad to Ian, still glaring at him.

"All right. Don't do anything drastic." He said, setting the notepad back on the table, then leaned out of the door to signal a doctor...I assumed.

He came back in after a moment, picked up the notepad, then retook his seat in the chair next to the bed.

"I had to tell them you were my fiancée in order for me to stay with you. So play along." He said quietly, taking the pen out of my now loose grip.

Oh. My. God...I died and this is all some fantasy, isn't it...?

I nodded as he took my hand, again, and grinned at me.

Another moment later, a tall, male doctor with thin, black-framed glasses and a receding hairline came in.

"Hello, Miss Ferdinand. I'm Doctor Evans and I'll be your attending during your stay here." He said a little too happily.

I just looked at him as he talked, then gave Ian a 'I want this guy to hurry up' look.

"She'd like the breathing tube removed." Ian said, running his thumb over the back of my hand.

The doctor looked from me to Ian, then back to me again.

"Can you breathe all right?" He asked me.

I nodded.

"Okay. Let me get a nurse and we'll have it out soon." He said, looking at my vitals, then exiting the room.

Within a few moments, Doctor Evans came back in with a nurse. The two got situated on either side of me (making Ian get out of his chair, but refusing to let go of my hand). The nurse took the medical tape off the skin around my mouth that held the tube in place, then the doctor went for the tube.

"On the count of three, cough." Evans said.

I gripped Ian's hand tighter since I had no idea how this would feel.

"It's all right, Jackie Baby." Ian said softly, locking gazes with me.

Hearing Ian say that, I inhaled sharply, completely by accident, remembering the early morning erection incident.

"One. Two. Three."

I coughed as he pulled the tube out of my throat. When it was out, I gagged a few times, then coughed some more. I took a few breaths before letting up on Ian's hand.

All this coughing was killing my chest, too. I wanted to curl into a ball.

"How do you feel?" Evans asked, smiling.

"Like I've been sat on by an elephant." I said gruffly. "Then hit by a Mack truck."

Evans nodded with a grin and I saw the nurse walk out of the room.

"We'll have to keep you here a few days just to make sure everything is healing properly. Try to get some rest." He said, then looked at Ian with a nod and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Ian retook his seat in the chair, still holding onto my hand, and looked at me.

"You look terrible." Ian said with a grin, trying to make light of the situation, but I was too pissed off to humor him.

"Thank you. You try getting the shit beat out of you and almost raped, then tell me you look beautiful." I said sarcastically.

"He didn't actually...?" He let the rest of his question hang in the air, but I knew what he wanted to know.

"No, he didn't. I kneed him in the balls before he could." I answered, looking down at my left hand.

"They say it's practically shattered. It'll take a long time to heal." Ian said, following my gaze.

"He stomped on it. I'm not surprised, really." I said, looking up at him. "Hurts like a bitch, though."

"Do you know who did this to you?"

"No, but he either works for or was hired by Collins."

"How do you know?"

"He said Collins' name, but my mind is a little fuzzy and can't remember exactly what he said."

Ian nodded, then released my hand and walked over to the window to open the blinds, looking out of them. I decided to change the subject.

"How long have I been here?" I asked.

"Just overnight. It's about lunchtime now." He said, turning and coming back to me. He sat on the edge of the bed next to me resting his back on my pillows as well.

"Where are the others?"

"They're all at Viktor's waiting for my call, then they'll come in." He paused. "I didn't want to leave you without one of us here, which is why I told them we were engaged."

I nodded, my heart beating a little faster at hearing him say for the second time that we were a 'couple'...my heart rate monitor sped up, so I forced myself to calm down.

"I'm so sorry, Jack. I shouldn't have made you go by yourself." He said quietly, glancing towards the window.

"No, Ian. It's okay. This is all my fault from the beginning." I said, which made him look at me. "If I wouldn't have called Collins, he would have never come after me."

"But if you didn't call him, we'd still be in jail." He countered.

"True, but still...it's not your fault."

I took his hand in mine, running my thumb over the back of it. I knew exactly what I was doing this time.

Ian looked down at our hands, then looked up and met my eyes. His eyes had darkened in color slightly. We stared at each other for who knows how long before Ian started to move slowly closer to me. I moved closer to him as well, meeting him halfway.

Our lips FINALLY met in a soft, gentle kiss.

And my toes actually curled.

I closed my eyes as our kiss went on for several long seconds. Since my ribs were broken, I could only hold my breath for so long, so I was the one to pull back first. I only pulled back enough, though, so I was able to look at him without going cross-eyed.

"I've wanted to do that for such a long time." Ian whispered with a grin.

"Me too." I whispered back, smiling. "I have to admit, I didn't imagine it'd be in a hospital room, though."

Ian chuckled. "No, I didn't imagine it that way either." He brought his hand up to brush a few strands of hair out of my face. "Get some rest, Jack. The more rest you get, the sooner you can get out of here."

I nodded, then rested my head on Ian's shoulder, getting comfortable in the bed again. "Things aren't going to get all weird and uncomfortable between us now, will it?" I asked.

"I certainly hope not." He replied.

"Okay, great." I muttered, closing my eyes and snuggling against him.

I felt Ian kiss the top of my head and I sighed shortly. He let go of my hand, only to grab it with his other. With my eyes still closed, I moved my head forward and to the left a little so his left arm (the one that I was previously holding onto) could slide under my head to rest around my shoulders.

I was in pain, but having Ian so close to me, and after that kiss, I wasn't feeling as much pain, so within a few minutes, I was asleep.

* * *

**A/N: **_Now gimme those girly squeel reviews!_**  
**


	18. Interrogations

**A/N:**_ If I leave this story for over a month, would someone kindly give me a kick in the pants/reminder to update? I'm about two chapters ahead, so I'm just lazy and need that little motivation. Thanks!_

_ENJOY!_

* * *

The next time I woke up, I heard a static-like hum and low voices that sounded like a television with the volume turned down quite a bit. With my eyes still closed, I knew Ian wasn't sitting next to me anymore and I sighed. Upon opening my eyes, I saw that I was indeed right about the television. Ian, however, was not where I expected him to be, in the chair next to my bed. He was standing in front of the window, left arm across his chest supporting his right, which was held up to his face. His sleeves were rolled up and it looked like he was gnawing on his fingernails.

"I shouldn't have done that." I heard him mutter to himself, shifting his hand to rub the bridge of his nose with his middle finger, like I'd seen him do so many times when agitated.

"Ian." I called groggily, letting him know I was awake.

His head snapped in my direction and he stared at me for a moment before moving towards me to sit on the edge of my bed. He took my hand gingerly.

"How do you feel now, Jack?" He asked, stiffly.

What the hell happened to the gentle, caring Ian that was sitting in the bed with me a few hours ago? Why was he acting as if I was some long lost relative?

Welcome back to the Land of Confusion, Jack.

I frowned slightly before answering him. "A little better. Painkillers make-a da world go 'round."

He gave me a tight grin, then nodded. "I'm going to call the other three. I'll be right back."

Before I could respond, he released my hand, rose, and walked out of the room.

I outright frowned after him. "What the hell went wrong?" I muttered to myself.

Within another minute or so, Ian came back into the room. He then went directly over to the window and returned to his staring contest with the outside world.

I needed to talk to him about his attitude at the moment, so I brought the ball into my court, so to speak.

"Ian." I said, looking at him.

When he looked back to me, I crooked a finger, signaling him to come over. He hesitated before slowly approaching me and sitting in the chair, then looked down to the floor, avoiding my gaze.

"Help me out here...why did you say 'I shouldn't have done that'?" I asked.

Ian's head shot up and he looked at me curiously, but I continued on.

"Yes, I heard you. I had just woken up when you said it. Why? And what's with you being so cold towards me now? I asked if that kiss was going make things weird between us and you said it wouldn't, so...what the fuck?" By that time, I was breathing a little heavy.

"First off, Jack: calm down. Do you want the doctors coming in here to re-tube you because you hyperventilated?" He asked.

He was right. I didn't want another tube down my throat, so I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing, returning it to normal. When I did, I reopened my eyes and looked at Ian through my lashes, telling him non-verbally to continue.

Ian cleared his throat and shifted in the chair before continuing, looking at his feet. "You weren't supposed to hear that." He whispered to his shoes, before looking up to me again. "I shouldn't have kissed you. I took advantage of you because of the state you're in."

I scoffed, then had to cough a few times, holding onto my ribs as I did so.

"Please, Ian. I kissed you as much as you kissed me. You did NOT take advantage of me. It's not like you went any further by feeling me up or whispering dirty things in my ear. Invalid or not, I would have found a way to punch you for that." I said with a grin.

"I'm too old for you." He mumbled almost right away.

I had to stare at him for a moment for that one to sink in, then I tried not to smirk.

"No, you're not. You're not that much older than me. You're not old enough to be my dad, therefore, not old." I said, staring him dead in the eye. "Age is just a number, anyway. It doesn't matter."

Ian just stared at me, silently, calculatingly, before he continued with his questioning. "What about after what Collins and his hired goon did to you? Were you looking for my comfort?" He accused me.

"No...well, yes, but not in the way you're thinking. I was shook up and you, along with the other three, were there. I'm not some whore patrolling the streets for sex, Ian." I sighed. "You've been my friend and confidant since I've known you. I wouldn't do what you're suggesting I did...to either of us." I said quietly, then looked away from him and over to my I.V. drip. (My drip was getting low, so I hoped the nurse would come back in soon to replace it.)

How could Ian think that of me? It hurt to know that's what he thought. It hurt so much, I could've cried...and I was fighting those tears while I looked away from him, biting my lower lip to keep it from trembling.

Ian took my hand in both of his after a few moments, making me look back at him and to our hands. He held my hand tightly and I watched him as he brought my hand to his lips to kiss the back of it, holding his lips there for several seconds. When he pulled my hand away, he laced the fingers of his left hand in with mine. He rested our entwined hands on the bed, covering them with his right.

"I know you're not some loose woman, Jack. I knew that from the moment I saw you." He said, resting his head on our hands. "I...I'm sorry for what I said. I guess I was just..." He shrugged, not knowing how to finish.

"Confused?" I supplied, my voice thick with unshed tears again.

"Yeah." He breathed, looking back up to me. He frowned, then picked up his right hand and brought it up to the left side of my face.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head into his touch. His thumb ran over my cheek lightly, wiping away a tear that escaped my eye.

And I thought I had all of my tears in check.

Ian took his hand away from my cheek and released my hand with his other. He sat on the bed and leaned towards me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders in a hug; he pulled me forward a little as he did so.

As I went to return his hug by wrapping my right and good arm around his back, I saw the door open and the nurse stick her head through. When she saw that we were sharing a moment, she grinned, then backed out of the door, closing it quietly as she did. I grinned as I rested my chin and mouth against the front of Ian's shoulder.

"Welcome to the Land of Confusion. I've been here for quite some time." I said, muffled slightly by his shoulder, making him chuckle.

After another few moments, Ian shifted back and grinned at me, not releasing me from the circle of his arms. I smirked and he leaned back in...except this time, instead of hugging me, he kissed me.

This kiss was different from the first, not by much, though. This kiss was firmer and had more confidence than the first.

I closed my eyes and got lost in our kiss...but, unfortunately, I had to cut it short again.

Curse the bastard who attacked me and broke my ribs.

Yet, thank you for putting me in the hospital.

It might have taken a longer time for Ian and I to get this far.

Ian rested his forehead against mine and we grinned stupidly at each other.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the door open again, so I pulled back from Ian to look towards it. He didn't move his head back, but turned to look as well. We dropped our arms from around each other.

Through the door came Phil, followed by Viktor, followed by Shippen. They were each carrying a small bouquet of flowers.

"Are we interrupting anything?" Phil asked.

I'm guessing he saw how close Ian and I had been.

I glanced at Ian momentarily before looking back at Phil. "No. Just talking." I grinned.

He gave me a 'yeah right' look, but I chose to ignore him.

Shippen sat on the end of my bed near my feet, while Phil stood at the end, and Viktor stood next to him. The three of them handed me the flowers they were holding...all had irises and calla lilies of different colors in them. My favorite kinds of flowers.

"Thanks, guys." I said, taking the bouquets from them one by one and setting them on my lap.

"How do you feel, Jackal?" Shippen asked.

"Better than I did, but my ribs and hand hurt like hell." I replied, attempting to lift my shattered left hand, but couldn't. I was too weak yet.

Phil opened his mouth to say or ask something else when the door opened again, and the nurse came in with an I.V. bag. Phil shut his mouth. Obviously, he wanted to say something that only the five of us should know. While the nurse was fussing with my I.V., I decided to talk.

"Did any of you happen to find my keys in the lot?...Or my messenger bag? I have no idea where it went." I asked them.

"Yeah, we got both." Viktor replied. "They're in Shippen's car."

I nodded, then glanced at the nurse. She had my I.V. replaced, so she looked at me and smiled.

"I'll come back in a few minutes to give you your medication." She said, then walked out of the room.

"I just hope they're not horse pills." I muttered.

All four of the men laughed at me.

"I'm so glad you're all getting a kick out of my hospital stay." I said with a grin and an eye roll.

Phil sobered up first and looked at me.

"What Phil?" I asked.

"Nothing else besides having the shit beat out of you happened...did it?" He asked, being polite and tiptoeing around the word he wanted to get out.

"You mean was I raped? No. The bastard didn't get that far. I kneed him in the family jewels." I replied.

"Good girl, Jack." Shippen said quietly.

There was a silence between all of us for a few moments. Phil and Viktor sat in the chairs on the other side of the room by the TV.

"God, I'm so hungry." I said to no one in particular.

Ian hummed. "Me too. I'll run down to the cafeteria and get something. What do you want?" He asked me.

"Food. I'll take anything as long as it doesn't have onions." I answered, leaning back into my pillows and glancing at the ceiling.

"All right." He chuckled. "Anyone else want anything?" He asked the others.

Someone said a bag of chips and the others agreed. Ian nodded, then squeezed my hand briefly, looking into my eyes before getting up from the chair and walking out of the room.

Almost as soon as Ian left the room, I closed my eyes and listened to the other three talk to each other. They were planning their next visit to the bar near the warehouse...which they decided would be after they left the hospital and they would have a drink in my name. I scoffed at how into the planning they got, which led me to start coughing. I leaned forward to lessen the pressure on my ribs while I coughed. Shippen put his hand on my shin. When I stopped coughing, I winced, then glanced at the guys. They were all looking at me as if I was about to keel over.

"I'm fine, guys. Really." I said.

"It doesn't look it." Viktor said, referring to the face I was making.

I rolled my eyes, then leaned back against my pillows.

Within a few more minutes, the door opened, making me raise my head to see who was there. Ian walked in with food, followed by the nurse and Doctor Evans, then the two officers who were investigating my apartment walked in. Ian was frowning fiercely as he walked across the room and over to the chair to my right.

"Miss Ferdinand, these officers have some questions for you. Are you well enough to answer them?" The good Doctor Evans asked me, while the nurse handed me a few pills in a small paper cup.

"Yeah, that's fine." I responded, then looked down into the cup. There were two little round pills and an oval-shaped one.

No horse pills...this time.

I brought the little cup to my lips and dumped the pills in my mouth. Handing the cup back to the nurse, she gave me a slightly bigger cup of water, which I gulped to get the pills down. I gave the cup back to her, then she and Evans left the room. I turned my attentions to the officers.

"How nice to see you two again." I said sarcastically, but with a half-grin.

"Trust me. We don't really want to see you any more than you want to see us." The younger guy said, also grinning.

Whoever thought I'd be talking so casually to a cop.

"We have a few questions to ask you." The older guy said, then turned to my friends. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Can't they stay?" I asked. "They already know. And they're my good friends. They'll keep quiet." I looked from the officer to the guys before looking back to the officer.

He thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

"Alright." The younger one said, "Do you have any idea who did this to you?" He asked.

"No, but he did mutter something about Collins…the guy I told you about before." I replied.

The older guy pulled out a notebook at some point and wrote down what I said.

"Where did this happen?"

"At work, in the parking lot. It was at night and I didn't see the guy. My vision was blurred and I was drifting in and out of consciousness the whole time." I explained.

"So this was last night?"

"According to them, yes. I really don't know how long I've been out of it."

"What are your injuries?"

"A bruise to the left side of my face below my eye, bruise to the right side of my face above my eye, a few broken ribs, a broken left hand, and quite obviously a concussion."

"Were you raped?"

"No. I used the last of my strength to knee him in the groin."

"Did you give him any other injuries?"

"Possibly. I may have given him a black eye on his..." I had to close my eyes to think about which eye it was, "Right eye...or possibly a bloody lip. I can't be one hundred percent sure which."

"Anything else you'd like to tell us?" the older one asked this time.

"Umm...he had a knife. Used it to cut my clothing from my neck to my stomach." I brought my right hand up and pointed to my chest as I described the cut. "He then threw it somewhere, so it still might be in the parking lot...forgot to add that to my list of injuries, too...sorry."

I glanced at the other four, looking for them to give me some sign if they found the weapon while grabbing my stuff...I also wondered if they found the 9mm that Ian gave me.

"We'll check it out. Is that all?" The younger officer asked.

"Yeah, I think so. My head hurts now, actually." I admitted.

"Okay. If there's anything else, feel free to give us a call. We'll be handling your case until it's solved." The younger one said with a smile. The older guy smiled, too.

"Thanks." I said softly, grinning as well.

They nodded and said 'good day' to the guys, then left my room. When I looked back at my friends, they were all staring at me.

"What?" I asked, suspiciously.

"You're one tough chick, Jackal." Phil said.

I scowled at him, then rolled my eyes. "Oh, did any of you find a 9mm in the lot? I think it got kicked under my car. It's not my attacker's, it's mine...well, Ian's technically, but we're not getting technical." I said in one breath.

They all looked at each other before looking back at me.

"I don't think we found it." Viktor said.

"Well, when you guys get the chance, could you go into my messenger bag and find the card for the cop and call him? Let him know that the weapon doesn't belong to my attacker?" I asked them.

Shippen nodded, then the three stood up.

"We'll leave you for the night. You look beat." Phil said with a wicked smirk. "Plus we want to get to drinking."

I laughed, which made my ribs hurt, so I stopped immediately and winced. "Don't make me laugh."

"Sorry." He was still smirking.

Shippen came over to me first and gave me a quick hug, which I returned. "Heal fast so you can join us." He said as he pulled back.

"I'll work on that." I replied.

Viktor hugged me next. "We'll have a drink for you tonight." He said.

"Thanks, I didn't hear your plans earlier." I said sarcastically, grinning.

I saw him roll his eyes as he stepped back so Phil could hug me. When he did, he patted my back a little harder than he should, so when he released me, I punched his arm weakly.

"That hurt, Philly. Are you out to keep me here longer than necessary?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and attempting to keep a straight face.

"Oh, hell, no. I want you out of here just as fast as you do." He said, standing upright.

I snorted. "Thanks again for the flowers, guys." I said as they walked to the door.

They all said a sporadic 'you're welcome' before Viktor reached for the handle.

"See you tomorrow, boys." Ian said, making me jump.

I forgot he was there; he was so quiet.

My three friends and co-workers waved, then left the room, leaving Ian and I alone again.

* * *

**A/N: **_So, there's actually a part 2 to this scene, but I felt that it was getting a bit winded, so it'll be the next chapter._

_In the movie 'Miracle', Coach Brooks says to the players "The legs feed the wolf, gentlemen" (meaning: the harder you skate at practice, the better you'll be in a game)_..._well, I think I'm going to take his line and twist it to my own. You ready?_

_The reviews feed the writer, readers!_

_Hint, hint..._**  
**


	19. Can't Breathe

**A/N:**_ I am so sorry for the lack of updating! I started a new job and my body is still trying to adjust to 10 hour night shifts...in a warehouse (it kinda sucks, but the money is great). And I've found a current obsession in BBC TV shows: Sherlock and Robin Hood._

_So here's an update. No promises on when I'll have another one up._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

I looked over at Ian.

"You all right?" I asked, tilting my head to the side like a befuddled puppy.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He said, not convincing me, then reached down to the floor to pick up the food he brought us. "Food?"

"Yes, please." I replied with gusto.

He handed me a sandwich and a sixteen-ounce bottle of orange juice. I set the bottle next to me on the bed, then unwrapped the sandwich single-handedly, taking a bite before looking back over to Ian, who was unwrapping his own sandwich.

"Thank you." I said with half my mouth full of the sandwich.

"Welcome." He grumbled, looking down at his sandwich, then taking a bite.

I observed him as he ate. Not in a weird way, but in a trying-to-figure-you-out sort of way. I don't think I've seen him have mood swings like this before.

"What, Jack?" Ian asked, not even looking up from the sandwich.

I jumped again. "Damn, how'd you...?"

"I can see you out of the corner of my eye. And you haven't moved for a while for being so hungry." He finally looked up at me and gave a forced grin.

"Oh." I whispered, taking a bite.

"So why were you staring at me?"

I could feel my cheeks heat up. If he only knew that that wasn't the only time I've stared at him…did he ever notice before...?

"I'm trying to figure out what's up with you. You're not all right. I can tell something isn't settling right with you." I said, setting the sandwich aside to take a drink of the OJ.

"It's nothing." He replied, looking back to the sandwich.

"Bullshit."

I so called him on it!

His head snapped back up and he glowered at me. I just stared steadily back at him until he was willing to tell me something...anything. Just as I opened my mouth to give him another tongue lashing, he spoke.

"I don't know how to explain it, Jack." He sighed.

"Try. I'll take anything." I pleaded, forgetting the sandwich for the moment by putting it on my lap, then taking his hand in mine.

Ian looked down at our hands for a moment, then closed his eyes, head still bent. When he opened his eyes, he looked up to me and tightened his grip on my hand.

"It's you, Jack. Ever since we left to find that damn treasure, you're almost all I think about. Then all this shit with Collins has me...worried about you." He admitted softly, still holding my hand in a vice-like grip.

I was moved. I didn't know Ian felt that way...for that amount of time. Granted, it wasn't that long, but long enough.

"Oh, Ian..." I said breathily.

I took my hand out of his and gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him towards me. Wrapping my good arm around his neck, he wrapped both of his arms around my back. Without letting go of me, he got up from the chair, then sat on the bed with me. I couldn't turn too far because of my ribs, but I kept my arm around him as best as I could. Ian kissed my cheek before resting his chin on my shoulder.

"I don't want anything else to happen to you." He said in my ear.

"You're not the only one." I replied.

Ian pulled his head back a little and rested his forehead against mine. He breathed deeply through his nose, then kissed my lips lightly and my slightly swollen left eye.

"This medication must be kicking in. I'm getting really sleepy." I said after several moments of us staring at each other.

Ian grinned and tilted his head back to look at me fully. "All right, we'll save this sandwich for later then." He said, taking the sandwich and bottle of juice off my lap and tossing it lightly onto the chair.

"And my flowers?" I asked, turning my head to look at them.

He released me, grabbed the three bouquets, practically ran them over to the table near the door, then ran back to lay on the bed with me.

"Thank you." I mumbled, my eyes half-closing on their own accord.

I really wanted to cuddle up with him, but because of my attack, I couldn't even lay on my side; I had to lie on my back until I was healed.

While I was settling into my pillows, Ian was settling in beside me. He turned onto his side, facing me. His left arm went under my neck to rest on my left shoulder, while his right hand took a hold of mine. Resting his head on the pillow, he grinned at me.

"Sleep now, Jack. You're safe." He said softly.

I took my hand out of his for a moment to bring it up and brush some of his shaggy, blond hair out of his eyes. At my touch, he closed his eyes briefly.

"Stay with me, Ian." I said with a yawn and closing my eyes. "I don't want to be alone."

"I won't leave you." He whispered, kissing my forehead.

I felt myself grin as I drifted off to sleep again.

* * *

I was dreaming of my unknown attacker re-attacking me, his lustful eyes burning into me, when I forced myself awake. Gasping, my eyes snapped open. I wasn't able to get my breath back; it was coming out in quick pants.

Ian lifted his head quickly and looked down at me.

I was scared...this never happened to me before. My grip on his hand tightened dramatically.

"Ian...I can't...I can't...catch my...breath." I said in between gulps of air; my words came out as whispers.

I don't think I'd ever seen Ian sit up so fast.

"I'm getting the doctor." He said, getting off the bed.

I nodded, but refused to let go of his hand, still gasping for breath.

"Jack, you have to let go of me. I won't even leave the room." He said quickly, seeing that I wasn't getting any better.

His voice may have been calm and even, but the concerned look in his eyes worried me. Reluctantly, I released his hand and he ran over to the door, throwing it open.

"We need help in here! NOW!" He called out the door.

Ian then ran back over to me and took my hand in both of his, lifting it to his lips, and kissed the back of it. He continued to look down at me as I closed my eyes, attempting to control my breathing, but I just couldn't get enough air into my lungs.

Within a few seconds, Doctor Evans and the nurse from before came running in, standing to either side of me.

"What's wrong?" The nurse asked.

"She can't catch her breath." Ian said, repeating my diagnosis.

Ian had to let go of my hand to let the doctor do his work. He moved to the foot of my bed, putting his hand on my foot.

"Vitals are okay. Heart rate's a little fast, though. Grab an oxygen mask." Evans said in a rush to the nurse.

She quickly reached behind my bed and brought out a plastic mask. Placing it over my nose and mouth, I felt and heard the oxygen rush out of the tube and into my system.

In a matter of seconds, I was breathing easier. I was able to take deeper and longer breaths.

"Feel any better?" Evans asked me, pulling his pen-like flashlight out of his pocket to check my eyes.

I could only nod, since I wanted to save my breath.

"Alright. I'll check back in half an hour." He said, then looked at Ian. "If anything else happens, call us right away."

Ian also nodded, then the doctor and nurse left the room. When they closed the door behind them, Ian came back to my side, sitting on the bed. He retook my hand and kissed it.

I squeezed his hand and gazed steadily into his eyes.

He leaned forward and brought his free hand up to the side of my face, where he ran his thumb over my cheek a few times. Bringing his face closer to mine, I got a good look at his gray-green eyes, and I saw the concern that was there before still remained.

I shook my hand briefly for him to let go. When he did, I brought my hand up to pull the mask away from my mouth.

"I'm okay, now." I said softly, then replaced the mask on my face, grinning slightly behind it.

"You're sure?" He asked, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

I nodded, then he kissed my forehead before resting his own forehead against mine. I took his hand again as he pulled his head away.

For half an hour, I concentrated on my breathing, while also glancing at Ian every now and then. I took a look out of the window at one point and saw that it was dark...I just hoped it wasn't too late. Er, early, rather.

Doctor Evans came into the room, just like he said he would, to check on me. After checking my heart rate and making sure my breathing was all right, he grinned at me.

I noticed that Ian stayed at my side, still holding onto my hand. He watched Doctor Evans like a hawk.

"Are you breathing better now?" Evans asked, standing next to my bed.

I pulled the mask away to answer. "Yes, a lot better."

He nodded. "Let's take off the mask and find out for sure."

Reaching over, Doc Evans pulled the mask away from my mouth and nose, then reached behind my head to take the elastic strap away. I held my breath for a moment before breathing regularly.

"Sounds all right. Lean forward, please." He muttered, then put his stethoscope in his ears and the other end on my back. "Deep breath."

I took deep breaths (well, as deep as I could with my broken ribs) every time he moved the stethoscope. After a minute or so, he took the 'scope away from my back and let me recline again. Evans took the device out of his ears, wrapping it around his neck again.

"Everything sounds okay. What brought it on?" He asked, picking up my chart from the end of my bed.

"I was having a bad dream when I woke up and gasped." I answered softly, embarrassed by my admission. "I was unable to catch my breath after that."

"What was the dream about?" He asked, as he wrote down what I said on my chart.

I looked at Ian, then down to our hands, before looking up to Evans. "My attack." I muttered.

Evans nodded, unaffected, as Ian squeezed my hand, then brought it to his lips to kiss my knuckles. I looked back to him and gave a half grin.

"I'll be back in the morning. If anything else should happen, someone'll be here." Evans said with a small smile, then put the chart back and left the room once more.

"Jack..." Ian started.

"It's fine, Ian. I'm fine." I said, interrupting him. "It was just a dream. Granted, it was creepy, but..." I shrugged, letting the rest hang in the air.

He was about to say something when the door to my room opened again. The nurse stuck her head through.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." She said.

Ian and I both shook our heads and she walked into the room carrying a large flower arrangement.

"These just arrived for you...they're beautiful." She mumbled the last part, but I heard her.

My brow furrowed at the arrangement, but I forced a smile when she set them on my bed next to my left hand. She continued to smile as she left the room.

I glanced over at Ian with a confused and surprised look. Picking up the card with my right hand, I set it on my lap and stared at it.

"What?" Ian asked quietly.

"I don't know who this is from. The only ones who know I'm here are you, Ship, Phil, and Viktor, right?"

"Yes. And the police and doctors. We haven't told anyone else."

"These aren't from the guys, since they already gave me flowers and it doesn't have calla lilies or irises in it. I really doubt the cops and doctors would send me flowers, especially this big." I looked back down to the card. I didn't recognize the handwriting, either.

"Are you going to open it, or just stare at it?" Ian asked.

Looking over to him, I rolled my eyes, then picked up the card, turned it over and lifted the flap. I pulled out the card and opened it. In handwriting I've only recently started seeing, it read:

_Sorry to learn that you were taken to the hospital, Jacquelin. I hope you get out soon so we can continue our talk from yesterday.  
-Tom Collins_

I stared at the card as my eyes widened, then dropped the card onto my lap.

* * *

**A/N:**_ I don't think I've ever used so many ellipses (the three periods in a row) in one chapter before. Ha._

_Drop me a review and let me know what you think, please!  
_


	20. Knight in Shining Armor

**A/N: **_So sorry for the long delay in updating. If you didn't read it on my profile, my computer was giving me the blue screen of death every 5 minutes, so I had to wait until I got a pay check big enough to buy a new laptop. Then when I got it, it didn't come with Microsoft Word so I had to wait to get that. I have everything now and I've been writing again (when I'm not beat from work)...I even started a new story [in the Walking Dead category]._

_This chapter is nice and long for you to make up for my delay. Enjoy! (Oh, and a bit of swearing/cursing in this one.)  
_

* * *

Here's a quick recap: In the last chapter, Jack received a bouquet of flowers NOT from her friends. After reading the card, she realized it was from Tom Collins...

* * *

How the fuck did he know I was in the hospital?

Well, his lackey did put me here, so I guess the bastard told the prick.

"Jack?" Ian asked, tilting his head to look at me.

"It's from Collins." I whispered, not looking at him.

Ian took the card from me, reading it, then jumped up from the chair and ran out the door. I wondered where he went and I didn't want to be left alone if Collins brought the flowers there, himself. Ian then came back into the room after several minutes.

"He wasn't here. It was a delivery guy." He said, then returned to his seat next to the bed.

I needed him closer to me, if only just for comfort and to calm me down, so I put my hand out to him and made a come here gesture, then patted the bed next to me. He got up out of the chair and carefully sat next to me. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him, then he kissed the crown of my head, his lips lingering for several seconds and I closed my eyes to savor it. When he pulled his head back, I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. I then had an involuntary shudder...or maybe it was just a shiver.

Whatever it was, I snuggled closer to Ian without hurting myself and sighed as I rested my head against his shoulder.

"He's not going to leave me alone until I'm dead...or until he gets into my pants." I murmured.

"Neither one is going to happen while I'm around." Ian replied.

I could tell he was serious, but it was a bit corny and it made me scoff.

"You think I'm kidding?" He asked.

"No. I know you're serious, but it was a little clichéd and corny." I picked up my head to look up at him with a small grin.

He grinned as well. "Maybe a little bit...but it's true."

"I know." I whispered, resting my head against him again.

He reached over and took my free hand into his. "Get some sleep, Jack. You're safe."

I nodded slightly against him and fell asleep moments later from all the excitement and my cocktail of drugs and pain meds.

* * *

Three days, and numerous pills later, I was finally released from the hospital. It took a day longer than planned because I became short of breath again. Doc Evans diagnosed me with a mild case of asthma, which was only brought on in times of trauma...like when I dreamed about my attacker. Which was the reason that brought about my second attack.

Per hospital regulation, I had to get wheeled out of the hospital via wheelchair. When the nurse who'd been taking care of me wheeled me out of the sliding front doors, Ian was standing next to his blue Saab waiting for me. Grinning, he opened the passenger's side door with a dramatic bow.

"Your chariot awaits, my lady." He said with an equally dramatic sweep of his arm.

The nurse and I laughed (I was more giggling, though, since they loaded me up with more meds before releasing me and the sleep ones made me feel a little loopy if I fought them), then she helped me stand from the wheelchair. Ian came over and took my other arm, then led us to the car. He practically picked me up to put me in the front seat. When I was settled, he stood up and turned to the nurse.

"She'll need to have these filled in time for tonight." The nurse said and handed him a stack of papers, which, I assumed, was my prescriptions.

Ian nodded, then thanked her and closed my door before walking to the driver's side and getting in. I waved to the nurse, who waved back, then turned to take the wheelchair back into the hospital. I looked back at Ian, who was starting the car. He noticed I was looking at him, so he looked at me and grinned.

"Well, shall we get these taken care of then get you into bed?" He asked casually.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

He froze. "That didn't come out right." He muttered. "You know what I mean."

I laughed softly, holding onto my healing ribs. "Yeah, I know."

Ian pulled the Saab out of the hospital parking lot and headed towards the nearest pharmacy. On the way, I was trying to find the lever on the side of my seat so I could recline and get some pressure off of my ribs. I couldn't find it. I don't know if it was because the drugs were impeding my motor skills or the lever was hiding or if there wasn't a lever at all. I huffed softly, giving up, and put my hands back in my lap.

"What are you trying to do?" Ian asked. We were at a stoplight.

"I want the seat back. Ribs hurt." I grumbled, turning my head towards him.

"Buttons are down here." He reached down between the seats to a console that moved the seats and rolled the windows up and down. "You should know that by now." He admonished.

"Yeah, well. Drugs are one hell of a...drug." I attempted to reason.

Ian smirked, shook his head, and continued driving. I pressed the buttons on the console until I got my seat back and after I accidentally opened Ian's window. Pressing these buttons was hard to do. Now if I were not on medication and my left hand wasn't in a cast, I would have managed, but because of those hindrances, I was not operating the buttons too well. I hurt my hand a little trying to get the right button.

"God, are we there yet?" I asked. I was going to need another pain pill soon.

"Not god. Ian." He smirked.

"Fine. _Ian_, are we there yet?"

"Almost. One more light."

I sighed quickly, then nodded. I closed my eyes, hoping that if I could sleep some maybe this car ride won't seem like it's taking forever and a day. This helped because before I knew it, Ian pulled the hand brake and turned off the ignition.

"I'll get your prescriptions. You stay here and sleep, okay?" He said, opening his door.

"Yeah, sure. Just don't take too long." I mumbled, my eyes half open.

Ian leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. "I won't." He said softly, then got out of the car.

I wiggled around a bit until I got comfortable, but every few (what felt like) seconds, I moved again. I could not get into a good napping position. I wanted to turn on my side, but have you ever tired doing that in a car with your seatbelt on?...And broken ribs? Not as easy or as comfortable as you might think. Huffing, I finally laid on my back and stayed that way, hoping Ian would be back soon.

Just as I was about to drift off, I heard the door unlock and the driver's side door opened.

"Jack, you awake?" Ian asked softly.

"No." I grumbled, turning my head towards him and cracking an eye open.

Ian grunted then closed the door as he put a bag near my feet.

"We'll be home soon, then you can sleep all you want, peacefully." He said as he started the Saab once more.

Home...

Wait, my home was destroyed. So did that mean I was staying with Ian, like we had planned?

"Your home, right?" I asked, just to clarify because of the state I was in.

"Yeah, Jack, my home. We'll be there in a few minutes." He replied.

I nodded and turned my head away again, then turned it back after a moment. "So, does this make you my knight in shining armor?"

"Your what?"

"My knight in shining armor. You know, the handsome prince rescues the damsel in distress and they ride off into the sunset on a white steed…then when they find somewhere nice to live, they get married, fuck like rabbits, and have lots of babies."

"Jack!" Ian scolded.

Okay, so maybe that was a bit vulgar, even for me, but come on. Everyone knows how babies are made.

"What, Ian? Babies certainly don't come from storks." I reasoned.

"I know that. It's just...you never speak like that. So…blunt." He said, taking a quick look at me.

"Blame it on the drugs." I giggled.

Ugh, if I was in my right state of mind, I would have slapped myself. Giggling is so...demeaning. So girly. I hate it.

"But seriously. Would you consider yourself my knight?" I asked, getting back to the topic at hand.

"If it makes you happy, then sure. I'm your knight in shining armor." He relented. "But we're riding home in a blue Saab, not on a white steed, got it?" I heard the smile in his voice.

I laughed. "Yes, sir."

I probably would have saluted him if I had the energy to lift my arm.

Until we reached Ian's loft, I dozed, falling in and out of consciousness for seconds to minutes at a time. When I felt the car stop and Ian pulled the hand brake, I forced myself to open my eyes wide to prevent falling back asleep and looked over at Ian.

"We here?" I slurred, not sure if I was falling asleep or trying to stay awake at that point.

"Yeah, Jack. We're here." He replied, glancing up and down the street, his eyes never staying still.

"Okay." I mumbled as I pressed the button for the seat to return to its full and upright position. Once it was in place, I felt my ribs protest a bit and winced. The slight pain actually made it easier for me to keep conscious.

I heard Ian kill the engine, then get out of the car, close the door, and walk over to my side of the car to open my door and help me out. After I got out, he grabbed my left arm by my elbow and guided me up onto the sidewalk. I paused for a moment to glance up the few steps to the front door of the building...and grinned.

Standing at the top of the steps were Phil and Shippen. Phil was sporting some pretty fancy sunglasses. Aviators from what I could tell. He lowered them and looked over the tops as he grinned at me. I smiled wide and waved dramatically. I then shifted my gaze over to Shippen and gave him an equally dramatic wave. He just grinned at me.

While I was entertaining myself with my friends, I knew Ian reached back into the car to grab my bag of drugs. When he closed the door, I heard the horn honk, signaling that he locked the vehicle.

"Jack, I need you to carry this. Think you can?" He asked me as he handed me the bag with my prescriptions.

I nodded and gently took the bag as I smirked up at him. He smirked back quickly before his right hand rested against my lower back, urging me on, while his left took my inner elbow. He guided me up the steps to our friends.

"Hey, guys." I said a bit too cheerfully, wanting to hop up the last step to them and hug them both.

Instead, I tripped on the last step and had all three men trying to keep me on my feet.

I was giggling uncontrollably, though and when I stood up straight, I stopped abruptly and hugged my ribs.

"Ugh. No laughing." I grumbled as Shippen opened the door to the building.

"Not one of your better ideas, Jackal." Phil said, following behind Ian, Shippen, and I.

I turned my head back to glare at him as best as I could, but evidently it didn't work too well. He actually grinned at him.

We slowly made our way up the stairs, having to stop numerous times because my ribs hurt too much. By the time we reached the top, I was out of breath and leaning heavily against Ian. He was able to fish his keys out of his pocket, though, and unlock the door. He opened it and led me in. We stood just inside the door. All four of us. The men talked about something, but my drug-induced mind was elsewhere as I looked around the loft.

"Hey. Where's Viktor?"

I may have interrupted their conversation, since they became quiet and all looked at me. Phil then smirked at me.

"He's holding a table for us at the bar." He said with a small laugh.

I laughed as well...probably a little louder than what was normal. But you know, the drugs and all.

"Typical." I said, resting my head against Ian's shoulder, feeling very sleepy.

I felt him look down at me before looking back up to our friends.

"Right. Well, check in some time tomorrow and don't forget to bring her car around." He instructed.

I saw Phil and Shippen nod before they started to walk out of the door.

"Bye, guys." I said with another stupid giggle and a wave or two.

They said 'bye' back and closed the door behind them as they left. Once the door was closed, I looked up at Ian.

"Can I sleep now?" I asked him.

He looked down at me and grinned. "Yeah. Let's get you upstairs."

"I'll be fine on the couch." I protested.

"It's not very comfortable and the doctor said to keep you from bitching." He grinned.

I grinned back. "Good luck with that. But Seriously. I'll be fine there...for now." I said. "I'll bitch later if I wanna to move."

We stared at each other for a moment or two before my eyes roamed the space around us.

"What time is it, anyway?" I asked, looking for a clock.

Ian lifted his arm and pulled his sleeve back a bit to check his watch. "A little after one." He said.

"Okay. I wanna sleep now. Wake me up for dinner." I said letting go of Ian and handing him my bag of drugs as I walked towards the couch. I could feel him watching me, making sure I didn't fall or sway or something that could hurt me even more. When I got to the couch, I sat down gingerly on the edge with a sigh before scooting myself further into the furniture, then reclining long-ways and pulling my feet up. The couch was long enough that I could stretch out comfortably and my whole body was flat; no limbs hanging over the edge. This was great. It took a lot of pressure off of my ribs and felt good. I closed my eyes and sighed gently.

From behind the couch, I could hear Ian's footsteps coming closer to the couch. I didn't want to open my eyes to see what he was doing, but I felt him untie my shoes, then carefully and slowly pull them off. I wiggled my toes when the footwear was gone, making Ian chuckle. I smiled.

I loved his deep laughs.

He moved away again before returning and putting a light blanket over my body. I opened my eyes and looked at him as he kneeled on the floor next to my head. He wasn't smiling now. His expression was unreadable and I looked back at him, my smile slowly fading.

"Get some rest, Jack." He said in a near whisper.

I stared at him for several long moments.

"I'm fine, Ian." I said, slowly bringing my right hand up to lay it against his cheek. "Just a dull ache at the moment."

He brought his hand up to cover mine before he took my hand away and engulfed it in both of his, kissing the back of it. "You shouldn't have had to suffer in the first place." He said softly.

I was touched.

I smiled a little. "Yeah, well. Shit happens." I said, my eyes staying closed a little longer every time I blinked. "I really need some sleep, now."

Ian nodded, then leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. "I'll wake you later." He said quietly before placing my hand back on the couch.

I nodded and drifted off not long after.

* * *

I woke up a bit later to my name being called and a light shaking of my shoulder. Groaning, I tried to swat the hand away from my shoulder, but didn't have the energy yet to do more than lift my hand a few inches from the couch.

"Piss off." I grumbled.

I heard that deep chuckle again.

"You're the one who wanted to be woken up for supper." Ian said. Cracking my eyes open, I saw him kneeling next to the couch again. He smirked down at me. "How're you feeling?"

"Did you get the license plate of the Mack truck that ran me over numerous times?" I asked in return, attempting to sit up.

"No, but I can get the driver for you." He replied, helping me up and leaning my back against the back of the couch.

"Good." I said with a grunt, then winced and groaned. "Ugh. Can I have some pain pills?" I asked, trying not to move my left hand again and taking shallower breaths so my ribs didn't hurt so much.

Ian nodded, then turned to the coffee table behind him and picked up the see-through orange prescription bottle of pills and a glass of water. He handed me the glass, then popped the lid off of the bottle, dumping two pills into his hand. He offered them to me.

"Umm..." I stumbled. "Can't exactly..." I looked from my bum left hand to my occupied right.

"Oh." He understood. "Umm."

I sighed. "Just pop 'em in my mouth."

God, that sounded dirtier than I would have liked.

I felt myself flush as I opened my mouth and Ian (who was a bit pink as well) set the pills on my tongue. When he pulled his hand away, I brought the water up to my lips and chugged down the pills.

"Uh..." Ian started, clearing his throat and looking away from me. "Hungry?"

"Starved." I answered, probably a bit too quickly.

Ian helped me off of the couch and we slowly made our way to the kitchen, where Ian had set the table with paper plates piled with cheeseburgers and potato chips. I laughed at the scene, earning a grin from the man next to me. We enjoyed our meal in relative silence, neither one of us knowing what to say...or how to say what we wanted to acknowledge. After dinner, I wanted a shower. And said as much to Ian.

"Fine with me." He said as we cleaned up.

"I, uh, I'll have to borrow something to wear." I mumbled, immediately taking a drink of water from my cup to hide my embarrassment.

Ian paused half-way to the sink. "T-shirt and sweatpants?" He questioned, turning back towards me.

"That's fine." I smiled shyly.

He nodded, continuing on to the sink.

When we were done in the kitchen, I made my way towards the bathroom while Ian ran up to his bedroom to grab a t-shirt and pair of sweats for me. While waiting, I looked at myself in the mirror for the first time since being in the hospital. I could see out of my eye, but it was a beautiful shade of greenish-purple. Sighing, I turned away from the mirror and leaned against the sink while I waited.

A minute or so later, Ian knocked on the door, which I had left open. He stood on the threshold, looking sheepish, and holding out a pair of gray sweats and a navy blue t-shirt.

I walked over and took the clothes from him with a quiet 'thank you'. He nodded and took a few steps closer to me to plant a kiss on my forehead. When he pulled away, I grinned at him before he grinned back and turned to leave me to my business.

Turning, I closed the door and set the clothes on the closed toilet seat lid. I stripped out of my clothes and leaned over to turn on the shower, wincing as it hurt my ribs a bit. Straightening up, I realized I had a bit of a problem…how was I supposed to shower without getting my casted left hand wet?

Groaning, I grabbed a towel from the linen closet and wrapped it around my body, tucking it under my armpits. The towel reached just above my knees. I'm glad Ian owned large towels or else this would have gotten even more awkward.

Taking a breath, I opened the bathroom door and went to find the man of the house. He was sitting on the couch, watching something on TV.

"Hey, Ian?" I called nervously.

He turned on the couch and saw me standing just outside of the bathroom door. I saw his jaw loosen slightly and tried not to blush. He got up from the couch, never taking his eyes off of me as he slowly walked towards me.

Now I knew I was blushing.

"Umm..." I cleared my throat and tried again. "Uh, do you have a plastic bag or something I can put over my cast?"

Ian shook his head gently, then walked into the kitchen, digging through a cabinet. Moments later, he pulled out a large, plastic Ziploc bag. He dug through another cabinet to find some duct tape.

"Gimme your hand." He said setting both objects on the counter.

I complied and held my hand out towards him. He ever so gently held my hand in his as he slipped the plastic bag over my hand and cast, then picked up the duct tape and stuck the end to the open part of the bag. He started to wrap the tape around my arm, but I winced and he stopped immediately.

"Just keep going." I gritted out. "Pain'll pass."

He nodded, then quickly finished wrapping the tape and ripped it.

I released the breath I didn't know I was holding in a puff, then looked up at Ian with a smile. "Thanks." I muttered.

Ian nodded again, then looked over my towel-clad body, raising an eyebrow.

I flushed deeper and held my arms across my chest. "I remembered about the cast at the last minute." I said by way of explanation.

"Obviously." Ian mumbled. "Go shower before you use up all my hot water."

I smiled and slapped him on the arm lightly before turning and heading back to the bathroom. I closed the door and let the towel drop before stepping into the steaming water.

When I was finished washing the stench of hospital off of me, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. I picked up the towel (with difficultly, mind you) and dried off my body the best I could with one hand. Hell, washing wasn't that much fun or easy either. Once dry, I pulled the tape and plastic bag off my arm with much grunting and teeth gritting. Once that was in the garbage, I somehow managed to get the clothes I was borrowing from Ian on my person with a minimal amount of cursing and grumbling...and grunting and teeth gritting. Tossing the towel over the door of the shower to dry, I opened the bathroom door and walked out.

Ian was back on the couch and turned when I exited. "You sure took your time." He said, standing and walking towards me.

"Well, it's kinda hard to wash with one good hand." I replied.

"I've never had the experience, so I'll take your word for it." He said with a smug smirk.

I childishly stuck my tongue out at him, then grinned. I then spread my arms out and looked down at the clothes I was wearing.

With a laugh, I said: "I feel like a little kid playing dress up."

The shirt was a bit long on me, reaching about mid-thigh and the sleeves fell to my elbows. The sweats were huge; baggy and long...but I liked them. They were Ian's.

Ian laughed and stepped closer to me, carefully pulling me into a hug. I was surprised, since this had to be our first hug where we were both on our feet. I hugged him back and rested my head against his shoulder and let the moment sink in.

Before long, I was yawning, trying to hide it by breathing out into his shoulder. It didn't work. He pulled back and looked down at me.

"Tired?" He asked.

"A bit." I replied, looking into his gray-green eyes.

"Okay. More pills, then to bed." He said, reluctantly releasing me and walking to the coffee table where he picked up two orange bottles and popped the tops after reading the labels. He closed the lids after dumping the amounts in his hand, then picked up the glass of water from earlier and walked back to me. He offered me the pills and water.

I took both from him and popped the pills into my mouth before chugging some water.

"Thanks, mom." I said sarcastically, handing the empty glass back to him.

"You're welcome." He said with a full out smile.

I almost melted into a puddle right there!

"You gonna tuck me into bed now?" I asked, again, with sarcasm.

"I could." He replied softly.

Uhhh...

I blushed.

"I was just kidding." He said to ease the tension...I hoped.

I forced a laugh. "Well…I'll just get back to sleep." I started to walk towards the couch.

"Jack, wait." Ian stopped me with a hand to my elbow. "Take my bed."

Sorry. What?

"Huh?" I said, intelligently.

"You're healing. My bed's more comfortable than the couch. Take it. I'll be fine down here." He reiterated.

"Really, Ian. I'll be fine on the couch."

"Jack," he said sternly, "take the bed."

I sighed, not wanting to fight about sleeping arrangements. "Fine." I huffed.

He gave me a tight lipped smile, then headed to the kitchen to deposit the empty glass before coming back out and taking my hand as he lead me up the spiral staircase to his bedroom.

If I knew nothing more than a kiss or two would happen (this night), I would have been nervous to be heading to the bedroom with him.

He released my hand at the top of the stairs as he headed towards the bed and turned on the lamp on the bedside table. He then turned down the sheets and comforter before turning back to face me.

"If you need another blanket, use the one at the foot of the bed." He said walking back towards me.

I nodded and watched him. He stopped in front of me, looking into my eyes.

"You alright?" He asked.

"Yeah." I said. "Some more sleep will do me good."

"Okay. Off you go." He said motioning to the bed.

I snorted, but moved towards the bed anyway. Ian watched me as I got settled in, which was a bit unnerving, but when I stopped moving, I looked back at him with a smirk.

"Do I get a good night kiss, my prince?" I asked smartly.

He grinned, then moved towards the side of the bed and sat on it near my waist. "Want me to tuck you in, too?" He asked, cheekily.

"Would you?" I teased back.

Ian leaned over my body and pulled the blankets up to my chin. I couldn't help but laugh. He then looked into my eyes before dipping his head down and kissing me fully.

He moved his head back after a few moments, probably knowing that I couldn't hold my breath very long. We both smirked stupidly at each other. Several moments passed before Ian pulled his eyes away from mine and rose from the bed.

"Good night, sweet princess." He said with a very dramatic bow.

I held back my laughter. "Good night, my knight in shining armor." I answered.

Ian smirked, then reached over and turned off the light. I heard more than saw him walk to the stairs.

"If you need me, just holler." He said.

"Alright."

I think he nodded before walking down the stairs after one last look my way.

I got more comfortable in the bed. Turning my head to the side, I could smell Ian on the pillow and in the sheets. I felt...comforted. Even though he was only about a room away, I could feel like he was right there with me.

With that thought in mind, I fell asleep fairly easily…with a smile on my face.

* * *

**A/N:** _Okay, so before all you car buffs attack me, I will point out that there are no controls on the center console for the seats or windows in a Saab 9-3 sport sedan (it has a normal seat lever and buttons for the windows on the doors). I looked it up after I wrote this, but preferred to leave it how I wrote it...it worked better, so just pretend._

_Oh, and we're probably a little more than half-way through the story...  
_

_Anywho...what'd you think? Please review!_


	21. Author's Note

**Author's Note (important):**

I'm really sorry to have to do this, but I have to put a halt on my stories for a while...

On November 21, 2011, we had to put my dog of fifteen years (and four months) to sleep. :'-( She was the love of my life; she was _MY_ dog.

This week has been extremely rough for me and my family. This Thanksgiving was the first that we really knew she was gone...she's normally under the table looking for scraps of turkey, but she wasn't there this year. I almost went to pick a piece of turkey off my plate and lower it under the table, but stopped myself and almost started crying. Even right now it's six in the morning and I haven't slept at all...every time I close my eyes, I see her and start crying. I'm not sleeping tonight. I've cried myself to sleep every night since she passed.

I've tried to write something for any of the stories I have going, but anything I write is shitty. I'm finding it very hard to write romance when my heart has a large chunk taken out of it. I'm depressed and sad.

For those of you [assholes] who're thinking: 'It's just a dog'...fuck you! She was a member of this family and her passing is and will be hard; especially with the upcoming holiday(s).

So, again, I'm sorry, but I can't write right now. I'm not sure when I'll be able to again...maybe in the new year, maybe sooner. I'll keep working and writing down notes, but for now everything is on hold.

(Sorry if you get two of these...I'm an idiot and still type 2010 when I mean 2011...and I'm a bit sleepy/not with it...)


	22. Sentimental Bullshit

**A/N:**_ Okay, so to make a long story short: once I felt like writing the story again, I go and hurt my hand playing hockey (but I scored a wicked awesome goal in the process). I waited 2 weeks before I went to see the doctor (because I didn't want to risk not finishing my season). I got X-rays and it turns out I fractured a bone in my hand. For the last 2 weeks or so, my hand's been in a removable cast. I really did want to write, but I got frustrated because I couldn't type right with the cast. My hand's all better now, so I'll be writing more._

_My heart's not fully healed (and probably never will be), but I'm still here. Thank you to everyone who sent condolences. I really appreciated it._

_Now that business stuff's taken care of: Enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

I woke up a few hours later, a gasp on my lips that I tried to keep quiet. Feeling myself start to have an asthma attack, I looked over at the night stand hoping my inhaler was there. It wasn't, which was just perfect. I attempted to sit up, but only ended up rolling onto my side. That hurt like a bitch, so I immediately flopped onto my back. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on my breathing since it was going to be impossible for me to get out of the bed and down the stairs without injuring myself further.

Seconds after I closed my eyes, I heard Ian running up the stairs.

"Jack!" He yelled once he reached the top of the stairs. I could hear the worry in his call.

"Need inhaler." Was what I managed to wheeze out.

I opened my eyes and saw Ian dig in his pocket. He pulled the yellow plastic of the inhaler out and rushed to my side. Not bothering to turn on the light, he sat on the bed and slid an arm under me to lift me into a sitting position as he handed me the inhaler. Ripping off the cap on the mouth piece, I tossed it somewhere onto the bed and raised the plastic to my lips. I pressed down and inhaled the best I could, holding it for as long as I could before repeating.

And then repeated again.

After the third puff, I was feeling like I could breathe easier, so I tossed the inhaler onto the bed to join the cap and slumped against Ian. He wrapped his other arm around me and held me close, resting his head on top of mine.

And then I broke down into tears.

Ian whispered nonsense in my ear, trying to calm me down. It seemed to work since my tears trickled instead of flooded after a while. I didn't realize I was gripping his arm until I went to bring my hand up to brush away my tears. Slowly, I released my tight grip and rubbed my hand over his arm twice (to sooth or smooth, I guess) before bringing my hand up to my face. I scrubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, then swiped at my cheeks and nose before returning my hand to loosely grip Ian's arm again. I sagged against him more as I calmed.

"I need a tissue." I mumbled. My nose started to drip again.

I felt Ian chuckle briefly before leaning back (taking me with him) and grabbing the box of tissues from the night stand.

Letting go of his arm, I took the box from him and pulled out a tissue, then awkwardly blew my nose. I pulled out another one, then set the box on the bed next to me. This one I used for my nose and eyes.

"You alright?" Ian whispered, rubbing small, slow circles on my back. He didn't bother lifting his head.

"I'm sick of this bullshit, Ian." I moaned with a sniff.

He was silent for several moments, but continued to rub my back.

"Did you dream again?" He eventually asked.

He didn't fully ask, but I knew he was asking if I dreamt about my attacker.

Again.

"All I can remember is hands. Multiple pairs. So I don't know what I dreamt." I answered, sniffling again.

Ian squeezed me tighter, kissing the crown of my head. His lips lingered for a while and I was fine with that.

"I'm so frustrated." I growled, crumbling the tissue. "He's trying to get to me mentally. Like fuck with my head, so I'd give into him easily."

I felt him inhale to start to speak, but I cut him off.

"It's why he sent his lackey after me. To weaken me, so I'd be easier to frighten. Make me paranoid." I said my thoughts out loud.

Ian took another breath to speak and I let him this time. "You watch way too many films and television shows." He said.

I scoffed. Maybe he was right on some small level. But...

"Think about it, Ian. He's been trying to get into my pants since I first spoke to him. Maybe he thinks that if I seem weak and more damsel-like, he can swoop in...or something." I pulled back from him a little so I could look into his face.

I thought about what I said, then winced.

"Did I really just say that? Maybe you're right: I have seen too many movies."

Ian laughed, then leaned in to kiss my forehead.

"I told you before: he won't get you. He'll have to get through your three bodyguards and me." He said, leaning back again.

"My three bodyguards?" I questioned with confusion.

He smirked. "Phil, Viktor, and Shippen."

I mouthed an 'oh', then laughed a little. "Got it."

Ian patted my back gently as he slowly released me. "Get some more sleep, Jack. Your bodyguards'll be here in the afternoon." He said.

"Will you stay with me?" I asked softly, looking down at the comforter.

There were several seconds before he responded. "Of course, Jack." He stood from the bed. "Move over." He demanded.

Ah, so I was on _his_ side of the bed. No wonder the pillow smelled strongly of him.

I scooted over to the other side of the bed. I had found my inhaler and its cap (they somehow landed next to each other) and tossed them to the floor on my side.

Ha. Listen to me..."my side". Like this was going to be an ongoing occurrence...

Grabbing the box of tissues, I put those on 'my' side, too. I tossed the used ones to the floor as well. Flopping onto my back gently, I turned my head to watch Ian. He lifted the edge of the blankets just enough so he could slide in, trying to let out as little heat as possible. I still shivered when he let the blankets fall and cool air rushed in momentarily.

We both moved to the center of the king-sized bed. As much as I wanted to curled up on my side and snuggle into Ian's, I couldn't without some major rib pain. Ian had to have known this, too; he slid his arm under my neck. His right arm was flung over my waist and pulled me closer to him. He didn't remove his appendages once he settled, but adjusted his arm so that it rested across my stomach and not so close to my nether region or broken ribs.

Again, this was fine with me.

I brought my right arm up and gently clasped onto the forearm over my stomach. I raised my left hand slightly to let my fingers lightly play with his before I felt the cast weigh my arm down, then curled my fingers around his so I could still hold onto him. His long legs stretched out along mine as he leaned closer to me. Turning my head towards him, our lips met in a light kiss. After the kiss, Ian put his head on my shoulder. I grinned stupidly as I tilted my head against his, nuzzling his shaggy hair. I felt a chuckle rumble through his chest then laughed myself.

"Good night, Ian...again." I said once my laughter subsided.

"Night Jack." He replied on a sigh.

A few minutes later, I knew Ian was asleep when his breathing evened out and his limbs became a little heavier. I turned my head a little bit and kissed his head before sighing and settling in, following him into sleep and forgetting about my troubles—and Collins—for now.

* * *

When I woke up again, I wasn't gasping for breath, nor was I freaking out. I couldn't even remember if I dreamed anything again. Opening my eyes, I could see light coming in through the windows of the loft and small rays of sun were shining through on the bottom level.

I noticed there was no weight across my stomach anymore, meaning Ian was already awake. I didn't even have to look to my right to know that he wasn't in the bed anymore. I heard the banging of pots and pans, so I guessed he was in the kitchen.

Staying where I was, I stretched and cracked my ankles before going anywhere. I turned my head to the right and (being weird) sniffed Ian's pillow. I felt a small smile spread across my face before I decided to attempt to get out of bed for the day.

Shifting to the edge of the bed, closer to "my side", I tried to figure this out. Figuring that tucking and rolling would be a really bad idea, I lifted the blankets and let my feet fall over the side. Once they were on the floor, I shimmied my ass to the edge and with my right arm, pushed myself up into a sitting position...while holding my breath and gritting my teeth. Once fully sitting, I let the breath out and slowly got to my feet with a groan.

Ugh. Need drugs...after a trip to the bathroom.

Grabbing my damn inhaler off the floor with a groan/moan combo, I shoved it in my pocket (where the bottom was near my knee), and slowly made my way towards the stairs. I took a step every few seconds, feeling like an old person as I hunched over to lessen the pain.

Just hand me a walker and I could play the part of an old-timer excellently.

By the time I made it to the top of the stairs, I was standing pretty much upright. I grabbed the railing and took the stairs one at a time, letting both feet hit one stair before moving on to the next. At the bottom, I let out a brief sigh, then as fast as my weak body would let me, went to the bathroom to relieve myself. After I closed the door and turned, I saw a glass and my translucent orange medicine bottles on the counter.

"Ian." I murmured affectionately with a smile.

After using the toilet, I washed my hands, then filled the glass with water and popped the tops on some meds. I stuck some pills on my tongue and took a few gulps of water to get them down.

I walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, where I stood in the doorway to observe the man of the loft as he prepared breakfast. I stood there, leaning against the wall for a good five minutes before he looked over at me, jumping slightly.

"Jesus Jack! How long have you been there?" He asked, setting down a spatula and sauntering over to me.

"Not long." I answered with a grin.

What? It really didn't _seem_ that long...while I watched his ass.

He stopped in front of me and looked me over. "How do you feel?" He asked as he reached a hand out and brushed some stray hairs out of my face.

"I'm okay." I answered with a shiver as my eyes closed on their own momentarily. When I opened my eyes, I added: "I'll be better when the drugs kick in."

This earned me a grin and a kiss to the forehead.

"Breakfast?" He asked, as he pulled away.

I nodded and he took my hand to lead me over to the small table in the corner of the kitchen. Once I was sitting, he went back to the stove and picked up the pan and spatula. Bringing both back over to the table, he evenly dished out scrambled eggs on two plates. I started to laugh lightly.

"What?" Ian asked, returning the pan to the stove.

"I really didn't expect you to cook for me." I said as he sat across from me.

"I wasn't about to let you attempt to cook. I know you're a culinary failure." He smirked, pouring some cream into a mug.

Bastard.

But...fair enough.

I shrugged a shoulder and picked up my fork, then started to dig into my eggs. While I was scarffing, Ian placed a mug of coffee in front of me. I didn't even hear his Keurig brewing, I was so engrossed in my eggs. I nodded my thanks since my mouth was full.

"Toast?" He asked, reaching to the counter behind him and picking up a plate.

As he reached, I let my eyes stray to his chest as his T-shirt stretched taught over his pecks.

I stopped mind chew. And stared.

"Uh..." I answered intelligently.

When he turned back to me, with the plate in his hands, I quickly brought my eyes back up to his face. He raised an eyebrow, but I could see the smirk wanting to form. Rolling my eyes—mostly to hide my embarrassment—I finally answered him.

"Yeah, sure."

He took two pieces for himself before handing the plate over to me...which had four slices on it. I hoped he didn't expect me to eat all of it.

Once we finished breakfast, I was about to offer to wash the dishes before I realized, I probably wouldn't be able to even hold a plate while I washed it. So, I chose to sit where I was and watch Ian move some more.

When he went to put a glass back in the cabinet near the sink, I saw that stupid see-through blue water bottle with lime green lid that had "sentimental value" to Ian.

"Think you can tell me about that water bottle yet?" I asked nonchalantly.

Ian looked at me, then into the cabinet, then back to me before sighing. He folded his arms over his chest as he leaned against the counter. "I bought it the day I met you." He said softly. "I considered it lucky when I had it on me when I met up with you later and you agreed to be my secretary. Knew you'd be with me in some aspect for a while." He ended on a whisper.

Was that a tightening in my throat?

Swallowing a few times to move the blockage, I rose from my seat and walked over to stand in front of the Englishman. He was looking down at his feet, so I raised my hand to his chin and tilted his head up. Grinning wobbly once he locked his grey-green eyes with mine, I slid my hand to the back of his neck and pulled him closer. Just before our lips touched, I whispered "sentimental bullshit" with a grin, then kissed him fully.

Before it could turn into and all-out make-out session, I released his lips and moved my head back, smirking. Ian let out a single laugh before I rested my head on his shoulder. His arms carefully wrapped around my back and he gently pulled me closer to him.

A few minutes later, we parted. I made my way out to the living room to lay on the couch for a bit since my ribs were bugging me. I grabbed the TV remote and turned on some mindless programming. Ian joined me after a while, sitting on the end of the couch where my feet were. He lifted them up and sat before resting my legs in his lap. I grinned at him, while he grinned at me, then we continued to watch TV.

* * *

After lunch time, my bodyguards showed up, bringing booze, snacks, and a deck of cards. When I asked them what the celebration was for, Shippen replied: "Because you're out of the hospital".

Any excuse for them to drink.

I didn't argue, either...and I could use a drink or two.

The four men moved the furniture around in the living room so it surrounded the coffee table; a lounge chair was at either end of the table, with the couch along one side and a chair from the kitchen across the table from it.

I stretched out on the couch while they got glasses and bowls from the kitchen. When they came back, Viktor handed me a glass as I sat up to let Ian sit on the couch next to me. I hadn't taken my pills for a while, so having a few drinks wasn't going to hurt me.

"What is it?" I asked, looking into the glass.

"It's not a Tom Collins, if that's what you're thinking." Phil said as he sat across the table and set a bowl of chips down.

I glared daggers at him. I felt Ian not move for a while, too.

"Fuck you, Phil." I growled. "Not even close to being funny. I'd slap you right now if I had the will power to get up."

There was silence. Silence for so long, I may have heard a cricket somewhere.

"Uh...it's a sex on the beach." Shippen finally spoke up to break the awkward silence.

I nodded and took a sip.

"Oh, that's good." I groaned, leaning back into the couch.

I saw Ian and Viktor, who was sitting in the chair on the end closest to Ian, smirk.

"What?" I asked them, holding my drink in both hands as best as I could.

"Nothing." They said together.

Rolling my eyes, I looked over at Shippen, strategically avoiding looking at Phil. "What're you drinking?" I asked the Aussie.

"White Russian." He answered, tipping his glass in my direction before taking a drink.

My eyes flipped back to Viktor with a smirk. "Did you make it for him?"

"Niet." The Russian replied. "He makes better White Russians than I do."

I laughed, along with Shippen and Ian. "Could you make me one after I finish this?" I asked holding up my sex on the beach.

"Absolutely." Ship said.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Phil pick up the deck of cards and take them out of packet. He started shuffling them as Ian reached for a remote on the bottom shelf of the coffee table. He pointed said remote to the entertainment system and music came out of the speakers and filled the room. He put on a classic rock station, then put the remote back under the table.

"What are we playing?" Phil asked softly as he continued to shuffle.

I was still pissed at him, so I didn't bother responding, just looked down into my drink as I swirled it a bit. I heard Shippen and Viktor argue if we should play poker or rummy (I suck at both, by the way), but I kept my gaze down. I saw Ian's subtle movement as his hand slowly moved to my knee. When his thumb rubbed the side of my knee cap softly, I looked up at him. He grinned a little at me before looking back towards the other three.

They eventually settled on poker by the time I was a third of the way through my drink. I groaned as I picked up my cards, both from knowing I was going to lose terribly and because of my ribs.

"Okay?" Ian asked me softly as he reached for his own cards.

"I'm fine." I answered, taking a drink as I looked at my cards.

Yup, I was gonna lose.

Several hands later, I gave up, throwing my cards onto the table...after being the first one to fold for the eighth straight time. My drink, however, was gone and Shippen got up to make me a White Russian. While he was gone, I leaned over and sneakily looked at his cards. When I heard him walking back, I sat up straight, but then leaned against Ian.

"Lemme see your cards." I whispered in his ear.

I felt a chill go through him, but he suppressed it very well.

He shook his head slightly as Shippen held out the glass to me. I thanked him as I took it from him and he retook his seat with a nod. Since Ian was on my left, I carefully maneuvered my arm behind us and let my hand awkwardly lift up his shirt so I could run my fingers over his warm, bare skin at his lower back, above the waistband of his pants.

Ian sat up straighter and turned his head towards me. I looked innocently up at him as I rested my head on his shoulder.

So maybe it had been a while since I drank...and I did kind of down that sex on the beach pretty quick. I would have never done this otherwise. I get a little...touchy-feely when I drink.

Ian turned his head back to the guys and watched at Phil took his turn. Luckily, the others were into the game, so they didn't see me rubbing my hand on Ian's back. Which was good.

Oh, the teasing we would receive!

Ian slowly lifted his cards and let me look at them. I grinned, knowing he would at least beat Shippen.

Viktor was the next to fold, then Shippen. I glared over at Phil as he gave Ian his best poker face. Ian gave him his best right back. I took a few gulps from my glass as I watched them. Phil finally threw his cards down with a sigh.

I smirked as Ian turned his over onto the table and I squeezed his side lightly. He reached his left hand behind him (to make it look like he was scratching his back) as he pulled my hand from under his shirt. I got the hint and brought my hand back to my lap...as much as it disappointed me. I think I understood why, though. Our friends didn't know that we were...well, "together" I guess would be the right phrase.

Once the guys got bored of playing cards, we just sat around and drank as the music continued to flow out of the speakers. We talked about the most random stuff. I knew I was at least a little more than half in the bag; Shippen and Viktor were pretty far gone as well. Ian and Phil were sober...well, at least Phil was sober (since he was the DD for the other two), but Ian was a little less.

Viktor and Shippen were getting into a heated but friendly argument over what color our desk chairs should be.

I was leaned against Ian with my feet up on the coffee table. I had to slouch a bit to be able to reach the table, but I was actually pretty comfortable. I kept sipping on the drink in my hand, not knowing entirely what it was, but drinking it all the same and laughing at the incredulous yet hilarious faces Viktor and Shippen kept making at each other as they argued...and their color choices (Ship suggested hot pink at one point).

When their argument settled, I had finished off my drink, so I gave it to Ian to set it on the table because I was just too comfy where I was. I had to lean away from him momentarily while he moved, but I didn't mind since he came back. I nuzzled Ian's arm as I started to nod off when there was a lull in the conversation.

I guess it was getting later than I thought.

"You remember the first time we met Jackal?" Shippen finally asked.

"Sentimental bullshit." I said, making Ian laugh.

"Huh?" Shippen asked.

"It's nothing. Jack's just getting tired. I think you guys have worn her out." Ian replied.

"Yeah." I mumbled, snuggling closer to Ian.

"Right. Well, I guess these two have had enough, anyway." Phil said, pointing both hands at Viktor and Shippen.

Somehow, Ian and Phil helped Viktor and Shippen stand and get to the door. I watched as Phil opened the door with Viktor wobbling with every step, Phil's arm was slung around Viktor's torso to keep him up. Ian was struggling the same way with Shippen. Both drunks' arms were over the sober men's shoulders for more support.

"Jack. I'm gonna help get them to the car safely." Ian called over to me. "Just stay put."

"Aye, aye, captain." I saluted from the couch.

Ian nodded and left to help with the drunks. I wasn't going to stay on the couch to wait for Ian, so I slowly got into a better sitting position, then stupidly reached down under the coffee table to pick up the music remote. I closed one eye so I could concentrate better, then found the power button and turned off the system. I set the remote on top of the table, then slowly stood and walked to the front door, standing near it.

It had been a while since I got to kiss Ian, so in my alcohol-induced mind, I thought it would be a good idea to get him when he came back.

When the door opened again and Ian walked through, I waited until he closed the door and looked at me.

"Jack. You alright?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm good." I said with a smirk and walked towards him.

He watched me curiously, but I could see a grin starting to form. When I was close enough to him, I grabbed a fist full of his shirt and pulled him down so his lips crashed against mine. It took him a few moments to respond, but when he did...man! I went weak in the knees! His arms wrapped around my back to hold me up while I kept a hold on his shirt. My tongue slid along his lower lip and he hesitated before he let is tongue find mine.

Our make-out session didn't last long.

He tightened his arms around me and I let out a hiss as I pulled away from him. My hand came up to cover my ribs as I let go of his shirt.

A jab to broken ribs works just as well as a bucket of cold water to sober you up.

"I'm sorry, Jack." Ian apologized as he gripped my upper arms.

"No, no. My fault. I wasn't thinking." I said with a small gasp.

Ian chuckled. "Well, you _were_ drinking. It does get hard to think straight."

"Ass." I mumbled with a grin and straightening up. "I need to go to the bathroom. Then, I think I should go to bed."

"Good idea." Ian agreed.

I nodded and started to the walk to the bathroom. Ian followed...to make sure I didn't fall or anything, I guess. Once I was done in the bathroom (and after I took a few pain pills), I walked back out and over to the stairs. At the bottom, Ian scooped me up into his arms. I let out a squeal and threw my arms around his neck. He carried me up the stairs and gently put me on the bed. I snuggled into the blankets before looking up at Ian.

"Will you stay again?" I asked. When it looked like he was about to say it was a bad idea, I spoke again. "I don't have nightmares when you're with me."

After a moment, he nodded. "I'll be right back."

I nodded and started to get sleepy again as he went back downstairs and turned off the lights. I guess he changed, too, because when he got into bed, he was wearing his PJs. I snuggled closer to him after he turned off the light and settled. He put his arm under my neck again and curled the arm around my shoulder. His right hand gripped my right as he rested his head on the pillow.

"Night, Ian." I murmured sleepily, turning my head towards him and closing my eyes.

"G'night, Jack." Ian replied, kissing my forehead.

I fell asleep not long after, but I couldn't tell you how long Ian stayed awake.

* * *

**A/N:** _There you have it!_

_I admit: this was more of a filler chapter than anything, but I just let my fingers and mind do what they wanted. I think the next chapter will advance the plot/story along._

_Please review!  
_


	23. Keep Calm and Carry On

**A/N:** _HELLO FANFICTION WORLD! I have returned! Sorry for the extremely long delay...life got crazy. Long story short: I finally got a new job in Oct., then we got the crazy Christmas rush which left me no free time, let alone eat or sleep. Then the day after New Years, I get "let go" of the company...so now I have no job. While looking for a new job (in which I might just start my own cupcakery), I'll be writing as much as I can. I might actually finish something one of these days! LOL!_

_So enjoy this nice long chapter...an apology for taking so damn long!_

* * *

Several days passed in about the same manor: I'd wake up in Ian's arms, he'd make breakfast, we'd lounge about until my bodyguards showed up, we'd all do something for entertainment, they'd leave, then I would go to bed with Ian wrapped around me. Occasionally, I'd change things up and check on the statuses of my friend's paintings.

But I was getting cabin fever; I needed out of this damn loft!

It was a little before lunch time when I decided to approach Ian to persuade him to get some fresh air. He was sitting on the couch with his barefeet propped up on the coffee table, reading a book. I stepped next to him and tilted my head to read the title.

"_The Iliad_?" I questioned, straightening my head.

"Yes. Problem?" Ian mumbled, not taking his eyes off of the script.

"No...well, yes, but nothing to do with your reading material." I said, looking down, pretending to inspect the nails on my right hand.

Ian took his bookmark out from between pages he wasn't on and placed it where he was. He then closed the book and set it on his lap. Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned his head and looked up at me.

God, those eyes...

Stop it, Jack! Focus!

"What's wrong?" He asked when I took too long to continue.

I let my hand fall back to my side as I took a deep breath (not deep enough to hurt my ribs, though). "I need to get out of here, Ian."

"What?" He asked flatly, setting the book on the couch and standing. He took slow steps closer to me.

"I'm feeling cooped up. I need to at least go for a walk or something."

"We still don't know where Collins is or what his plans are. Going out right now is a bad idea, Jackie baby." He said, lightly grabbing my upper arms and rubbing them comfortingly.

I shivered as he used his new pet name for me. And I really didn't think he was aware that he used it...or he did and he just didn't give two shits anymore.

"I understand that, Ian, I really do. Believe me, I'd like to find him and kick him in the balls, but...I'm going to go crazy if I don't get out of here soon." I was starting to beg. "Take me to the warehouse or the goddamn grocery store for all I care, just get me out of here."

I could feel my breathing pick up as I desperately tried to convey my need to escape Ian's loft. If I didn't calm down, Ian was going to have to sprint up to the bedroom to get my inhaler.

"Jack." Ian said calmly, almost as if he were addressing a child going into a temper tantrum. "Calm down." He pulled me into a tight embrace with one arm around my back and the other hand gently pressing my head to his shoulder.

Wrapping my arms around his back to hold on tight, I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing. When I felt the air run freely through my lungs again, I brought my head back to look up at Ian. His hand moved from the side of my head to my cheek, where I leaned into his touch.

"Alright?" he whispered.

I nodded, bringing my right arm around to rest my hand on his chest, over his heart.

"Okay." He leaned down and kissed me. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine. "Okay, we'll get out of here for a bit. We'll stop by the warehouse, then go to the grocery store. We need some more food, anyway." He grinned.

"Thank you." I said sincerely, bringing both hands up to cup his face and planting my lips on his.

After I pulled back, he grinned down at me. "Go get dressed, then we'll head out." He said letting his arms drop from around me.

As I turned to go up the stairs, I felt Ian swat my ass. I stopped and turned back to him with a small gasp. When I saw his smile, I couldn't be mad at him (not that I was to begin with). I laughed, then reached my arm out to lightly punch his chest.

"You shit." I said affectionately with another laugh.

Ian laughed. "Just go get dressed."

Smirking, I walked backwards towards the stairs until I knew I was out of arms reach, then turned and walked up the stairs to the bedroom, where I grabbed a pair of tight, boot cut jeans, a navy-colored v-neck t-shirt, and clean underwear. I walked back down the stairs to the bathroom, where I took a quick shower and dressed into the clothes I picked out. I tossed my dirty clothes into a basket Ian had gotten me three days previously; he was tired of a pile of my clothes lying around. Walking out of the bathroom, I realized I forgot socks, so I headed back upstairs.

"Aren't you ready yet?" I heard Ian call.

"Just need socks." I called back, then muttered to myself: "And my inhaler and my pills."

I had started keeping my pain pills next to the bed because I would wake up in the mornings and pain would develop in my lower ribs. It wasn't a lot of pain, but it was annoying. I figured out, one morning when I woke up before Ian, that he would bring his arm up a little higher on my body in his sleep...I guess it was more comfortable for him. And I didn't mind, really. I felt like I was becoming immune to all of my pain.

I grabbed the pills and inhaler and walked to the top of the stairs.

"Hey, handsome!" I grinned down to Ian.

He looked up at me and I tossed him the bottle of pills. When he caught them, I tossed him my inhaler. He looked down at the objects in his hands, then back up to me questioningly.

"Just in case." I said, then ducked back into the room to grab my socks.

Quickly, I pulled the ankle socks on and trudged down the stairs. As I hit the bottom, I saw Ian walking towards me with my sneakers in hand. He handed them off to me and I planted myself on the stairs to put them on...which was a bit of a struggle since I had to bend more than my busted ribs would let me.

Ian noticed my little spasms of pain and knelt down in front of me to tie my shoes once they were on my feet. When he stood up, he took my hands with a grin and pulled me up. I smiled back at him, then leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"Thanks." I said.

"Welcome." He replied, taking my good hand. "Can we go now?"

With a smirk of my own, I nodded.

Ian tugged me towards the door, where he picked up his keys and turned out any lights that were on. He then opened the door and practically pushed me through it before passing through himself and closing the door behind him. He let go of my hand for a moment just so he could lock the door and check it. He took my hand again and we walked down the stairs to head out to his Saab.

Like the gentleman that he, surprisingly, still was, Ian unlocked the doors, then opened the passenger's side for me. He held onto my hand until I got into the car, then released it and closed the door for me. I smirked giddily as he walked around to the driver's side and got in.

I was still grinning like an idiot at him when he put the key into the ignition and looked over at me.

"What?" He asked, turning the key.

"It appears chivalry isn't quite dead yet." I replied.

With a scoff, Ian put the car in gear and looked around before pulling the car into traffic. As we drove down the roads, we were silent and we both kept looking around for Collins' Cadillac...or any other car that looked like it could be following us.

When we pulled into the lot at the back of the warehouse a while later, I was hesitant to get out of the car. Ian got out right away and started walking towards the warehouse before he realized that I wasn't with him. He turned and saw me still sitting in the car.

It's not that I was scared to get out...I was just thinking.

And remembering.

Ian came back to my door and opened it. When he saw that I hadn't even taken off my seatbelt, he squatted down next to the door with a sigh.

"Jack?" he questioned.

"I haven't been back here since it happened." I started. "Not that I'm afraid it'll happen again, but it still happened. If I wasn't such an idiot by calling Collins in the first place..."

"Hey." Ian said, resting his hand on mine. "Don't even start with that self-loathing shitte. First of all, there was no way you could have known that Collins is a douche; you'd never met him before. Secondly, if you didn't call him, we'd still be rotting in a jail cell." He released my hand and leaned over me to unbuckle the seatbelt. "You didn't have me with you last time you were out here, either...and it's not even dark yet." He grinned as he took my hand again and started to pull me out of the car.

I grinned weakly as I shifted to get out. Once standing, I looked around, then sighed before looking up at Ian with a small grin. I lifted my chin, signaling that he should lean down for a kiss. When he did, I kissed him hard, letting him know that his little speech was appreciated.

After I released him from the kiss, I rested my nose next to his, closed my eyes, and nuzzled him.

"Thank you." I whispered towards his ear.

I felt him nod slightly, then he tilted his head to kiss my cheek.

"Come on, Jack. Let's get upstairs." He said, pulling back. "I'm sure your bodyguards will be happy to see you out of the loft."

Taking my good hand in his, Ian led the way towards the front of the warehouse. While he was punching in the numbers for the security system, I looked around (out of habit, now) for any suspicious cars or that fucking Cadillac, all the while keeping my broken hand on his hip to keep physical contact.

Nothing gets the blood pumping faster than paranoia.

When Ian opened the door, I followed him closely, then turned to close the door a little harder than I meant to.

"Oops." I said, looking at Ian over my shoulder with a sheepish grin. I pressed the buttons to reset the alarm.

When I turned back around, Ian rolled his eyes, then headed for the stairs. I followed again, but refrained from touching him. The others still didn't know that we had developed our relationship.

At the top of the stairs, Ian and I went our separate ways; him to his office, me to my desk.

As I sat in my chair, I realized how much I kinda missed it. It may not be the top model of any desk chair, but it's comfortable and rolls, so it's good enough for me. When I looked up from stroking the arms of my chair, I saw my bodyguards snickering at me.

"Shove it." I said, then spun around in my chair, so they could get a nice view of the back.

As I stopped with my back to my friends, I noticed my dad's unopened, but at least delivered, birthday present. With muttered curses, I grabbed the box, then spun back to face my desk. (His birthday had been two days previously.) Grabbing a pair of scissors, I sliced the box open to make sure it wasn't broken or anything. I grinned seeing the Bob Ross painting kit with DVD.

Now, you may think that this is more of a gag gift than a serious gift, but my dad absolutely loved the Bob Ross Joys of Painting shows. He owns some DVDs but I have yet to see him actually attempt to paint anything. I thought this would be the kick start he needed to try.

I was still grinning as I cleared the packaging from my desk. As I lifted the box the painting stuff was shipped in, I found a note that someone had put there. Frowning, I set the paint kit off to the side, then put the packaging on the floor. I picked up the note, which was hand-written on one of my 'group meeting' note-taking tablets, and read it:

_Welcome back, Jacquelin  
I can't wait for you to get back to your top, _physical_ well-being._

Collins.

That fucker.

Wait. How'd this even get on my desk?

My head snapped up to look at my friends, who had turned back to their computers when I turned from them. The first one to notice that I had stopped moving was Shippen. He looked up at me with a grin, which quickly fell when he actually looked at me.

"Jack?" He asked. "You okay?" This made the other two look up to me.

"Has anyone besides you guys been here?" I answered his question with a question.

"Why? What's wrong?" Viktor asked.

"Has anyone been here?" I asked a little louder, wanting to get an answer out of someone.

I could feel my breath start to shorten.

"No. No one's been here while we've been here." Phil finally answered me. (I had forgiven him the day after his little Collins drink faux pas...after he brought me a case of beer.)

"Fuuuuck." I elongated the word.

"What?" The three asked at the same time.

I stood up from my chair and walked the note over to the closest man, who happened to be Phil. I passed it off to him, then kept on walking back to Ian's office. I needed my inhaler and I hoped he had it in his pocket.

I opened the door to his office without knocking, then closed it behind me before turning to face Ian, who was sitting behind his desk.

"I need...my inhaler."

If my intrusion into his office wasn't a dead giveaway that something was wrong, my short breathing pattern was.

He got up from his chair and came over to me immediately, taking my inhaler out of his pocket as he walked. He handed it to me, then, as I was puffing, he put his arm around me and made me sit on the couch next to him. He kept his arm around me as I puffed again. As I was holding my breath, I rested my head on his shoulder. I exhaled, but didn't remove my head from Ian.

"What brought that on?" He asked when my breathing was normal again.

"I found a note on my desk. It's definitely from Collins, but none of the guys know how it got there." I lifted my head from his shoulder as I continued. "We need to get a better security system if he got in while no one was here."

"Great." He muttered looking straight ahead. He then looked to me. "You're surprisingly calm about this."

"I know. Isn't that weird?" I paused before continuing. "I mean, I'm freaked out a little that he can get in here when no one else is here, but I'm not so afraid of him anymore...just more afraid of what his lackeys can do to me."

"Aww, Jack. You're growing up." Ian joked.

"Shut up." I grinned, then kissed his cheek.

I didn't care if the others saw...what would they do? Tell my mom?

The door to Ian's office opened then and the guys walked in, lead by Phil, who was carrying the note. He handed it to Ian (who still had his arm around my shoulders). Phil then looked at me with that unspoken question in his eyes. I shrugged and he shrugged in return.

I'm not sure what that was supposed to mean, but I guess he didn't really care...or he knew that Ian and I would get together at some point.

When I looked back at Ian, he had a disgusted look on his face. Taking his arm from around my shoulders, he stood from the couch and looked at the other three.

"We need to get a better security system. One Collins isn't familiar with. Jack will continue to stay with me since my place has some security cameras that we can hack into and keep an eye on." Ian said, looking at each of the others. He then looked at me. "Jack, get everything that's important ready to go. We're gonna play it safe and not let you come back here for a while."

"What's 'a while'?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Don't know. We'll have to play it by ear." He said.

With a quick sigh, I nodded and stood from the couch. With a tiny bit of worry and anxiety niggling at me, I walked out of the office and headed towards my desk. I gathered what I needed from my desk, making doubly sure that I had my dad's birthday present, and shoved it all in the box that the present came in.

As I was shoving small things into the box, the boys came back towards their desks.

"We leave in thirty, Jack." Phil said.

"'We'?" I asked.

"We get to tail you two while you go shopping." He clarified.

Damn. Now I can't hang onto Ian like I was planning on.

To hell with it! I'd do it anyway.

Thirty minutes later saw all five of us leaving the warehouse. As we walked to the parking lot, I kind of felt like some important celebrity...like I had FBI or CIA security guards with me: I had Ian on one side, Shippen on the other, Phil was in front, and Viktor was behind. It didn't help that two out of the four were wearing sunglasses (Ian and Phil). I tried to hold back my laughter until we got to Ian's car.

Once in the car and the doors were closed (and my box was placed in the trunk), I started to laugh. When Ian got in the driver's seat, he gave me a very confused look. After I got control of myself again (after we were a few miles down the road), I told Ian what I'd been thinking.

"You're weird." He said as he shook his head and rolled his eyes at me.

"Pfft. You're just now realizing this?" I retorted.

He just scoffed at me and continued to drive to the grocery store. When we got there, Ian parked and got out of the car to come over to my side. After I stepped out and closed the door, he took my hand. Shocked, I looked up at him.

"Act normal." He said softly.

Define 'normal' for me, Ian, won't ya?

Looking back ahead of me, Ian continued. "Your bodyguards are around. Just ignore them if you see them."

"Well, I do that on a normal basis, so no problem there." I muttered with a grin.

I glanced up at Ian in time to see him smirk a tiny bit.

We were almost at the entrance to the store, when I looked up at Ian again.

"Do the others know about us? About our, uh, blossoming relationship?" I asked with a wince at how terribly I worded that.

He was silent a few moments before answering. "I don't think so, but you know what, Jack? I don't give a shit if they do or not." He finally said.

"Oh, good! Me too." I said, leaning into him momentarily.

We walked into the grocery store and I let go of Ian's hand to grab a shopping basket...which he then took from me. With a huff, I let him. He then lifted his sunglasses up to the top of his head. I made a face at him.

"Ugh, take those off your head. You look like a tool." I said.

And they messed up his hair, making him look like some clichéd surfer dude. Which I did not approve of. I love his shaggy mane the way it is, thank you very much.

He did so with a sigh and folded one of the arms. He stuck the other one above the top button of his shirt and folded it down so they hung from his shirt. I stopped him.

"Eww, no. Now you look like a douchey tool." I took them from his shirt (desperately trying not to touch his skin, else I jump him), and put them on my face. I then lifted them, so they sat on top of my head. "Much better." I grinned and continued to walk around the store.

Ian and I walked aisle by aisle, grabbing what food we wanted, but not getting too much so that it didn't fit into the basket. Every once in a while, I'd see one of my bodyguards around a corner and would smirk inwardly.

It was like a mental game of hide-and-go-seek.

We got to the frozen food section and picked out a few pizzas (which I ended up carrying since they wouldn't fit in the basket) when I saw someone wearing sunglasses and a large coat peeking at us from around the corner. It wasn't one of our friends that was for sure...this amateur was too obvious.

I spun around so I was facing the opposite direction and Ian. I looked up at him with a bit of worry.

"What?" He asked softly, looking casually down at me.

"End of the aisle. Sunglasses and big coat." I said, catching a glimpse of Phil walking by the aisle. He paused for half a moment, then walked a little faster. Probably to go find the others.

Ian looked up to where I described. He stiffened.

"Keep calm." He said softly, faking a look into the basket.

"And carry on?" I muttered.

"That's a good enough motto to go on, I think." Ian said, starting to walk towards the front of the store. I turned again and followed him. "Need anything else? I think we should be going soon." He said in normal tones.

"Nah. I'm good. We've got enough food." I said, trying to play along...even though my heart rate had increased.

As we reached the end of the aisle, I went to take Ian's hand; that way if I tried to get taken, Ian would have to fight for me.

Yeah, paranoia's a bitch.

We rounded the corner and headed towards the cashiers. I fully expected to at least be hit over the head with something, but nothing happened. I took a glance back and saw Shippen a few aisles away, looking around. The creeper was gone if Shippen didn't get him.

As we checked out, I kept looking around for the guy…and forgot I was holding onto frozen pizzas. Granted, they were on my left arm, keeping my messed up hand cool. Ian had to nudge me to get me to hand them over. And I did...with a blush.

After we paid for the food, we headed out of the grocery store and back to Ian's Saab. I looked back once to see Shippen, Viktor, and Phil exit the store as well. As I did so, Ian took his sunglasses off of my head and put them back on his face. I looked up at him and he just grinned at me, putting his arm around my shoulders.

Just as Ian was putting the grocery bags into the trunk of the car, his cell phone rang. He unlocked the doors as he took the phone out of his pocket and we got in. He answered the phone, putting it on speaker, after we closed the doors.

"Yeah?" Ian answered.

"_You guys okay_?" It was Viktor.

"Yeah, we're fine. Tell the others to get back to my loft. We'll talk there."

"_Right._"

Viktor hung up the phone, making Ian hang up his. He put the phone back in his pocket, then started the car. As he was backing out of the parking spot, he looked at me.

"You _are_ okay, yeah?" He asked.

"I think so." I replied on a sigh.

Ian put the car in gear and headed out of the parking lot, back to his loft. As he did, he took my hand and lifted it to kiss the uncasted part of my hand. He then flipped my hand and kissed my casted wrist...where, if I didn't have a cast, it would have tickled. Feeling grateful for the best comfort he could give me in a car, I leaned closer to him, resting my elbow on his arm rest as he still held onto my hand gently. I would have rested my head on his shoulder, but would have had to move it soon when he went to turn the wheel.

When we made it back to Ian's loft, we got out of the car taking the groceries and my box of stuff from the office up with us. I kept close to Ian again as we headed inside, looking for the security cameras he mentioned earlier as we went.

Once we were up the stairs and safely secure in Ian's loft, I kicked off my shoes and plopped the box next to the couch to go through later. I then took the grocery bags from Ian and went to the kitchen to put things away while we waited for our friends to show up. I had put the frozen pizzas in the freezer first, then was about to put the two cereal boxes up in the cabinet when Ian's arms snaked around my waist, startling me and making me jump a bit. I dropped one of the cereals back onto the counter in the process as well.

"Jesus, Ian." I said, placing my good hand over his arms. He pulled me back into him, tightening his arms a little more, but not enough to hurt my ribs.

"Sorry." He apologized before resting his chin on my shoulder.

We didn't speak anymore than that; I really didn't think there was a need to, anyway. His quiet comfort soothed me and, again, I was grateful. We stayed that way until the doorbell rang, which meant that our friends were there. With a sigh, I let my hand drop from Ian's arms, but his remained where they were.

The doorbell rang again.

"Ian, you better get the door before they bust it down thinking something happened to us." I said, however reluctant I was for his arms to leave my body.

"Guess so." He grunted, slowly letting his arms release me. Before removing his head though, he turned his face towards me and kissed my neck, sending a pleasing shiver through me.

With a barely suppressed moan from me, he let go entirely and headed towards the front door. I stayed in the kitchen to cool down...and put the rest of the groceries away.

I heard Ian greet my bodyguards. Then some shuffling. Then some talking. I stayed in the kitchen for a while, not really wanting to know what their plans were just yet. Ian would tell me later anyway.

When I felt I gave them sufficient time to plan, I took a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with water before heading out to join the boys. Shippen saw me first.

"How you feelin', Jack?" He asked as I walked closer.

"I'm okay." I said taking a drink. "I've got all my bodyguards here now."

This earned me a few chuckles from them.

I sat on the couch next to Ian and took another drink of water. They then continued talking, but I wasn't really listening; like I said, I really didn't care at that point. I put my glass on the coffee table in front of me (on a coaster so Ian didn't beat me), then kicked my feet up onto it and reclined into the couch...leaning my head against Ian's shoulder. I felt him look down at me briefly, then continue on with the conversation. While they were chatting, I looked around without really moving my head. I noticed Ian's book from earlier still on the end of the couch that I was on. I opened _The Iliad_ and started reading:

_Rage:_

_Sing, Goddess, Achilles' rage,_

_Black and murderous, that cost the Greeks_

_Incalculable pain, pitched countless souls_

_Of heroes into Hades' dark,_

_And left their bodies to rot as feasts_

_For dogs and birds, as Zeus' will was done._

_Begin with the clash between Agamemnon—_

_The Greek warlord—and godlike Achilles.**_

I closed the book with a snap and a grunt. I was bored with it already...I couldn't even fathom how Ian could get as far through it as he did. Tossing the book onto the couch again, I looked up at the men. They were looking back at me, so I looked at each of them in turn, then shrugged.

"I wasn't liking it." I said, then leaned forward to grab my water.

Someone scoffed and they continued talking for a few more minutes before my bodyguards got up and left Ian and I alone for the rest of the night. After Ian saw our friends to the door, he came back to the couch and sat down next to me with a sigh.

"Well, today was fun, yeah?" He said.

"Tons. We should do it more often." I replied, leaning against him again.

He jabbed me in the shoulder, making me sit up and look at him. Motioning for me to get off the couch, I did so reluctantly. He then stretched out lengthwise and opened his arms for me to lie on top of him. Without hesitation, I did so, being extremely careful of my hand and ribs. However, because of my damn ribs, I couldn't cuddle with him the way I (perhaps both of us?) really wanted to. I had to lie on my back, but was somehow still comfortable...especially when he wrapped his arms around me again; one across the front of my shoulders, the other across my stomach near my hips. I reached up and held onto his arm around my shoulders with my good hand.

We didn't speak again, just held onto one another.

A few minutes later, I felt Ian place a kiss on the top of my head, then felt him let out a relaxing/calming sigh. I turned my head a little and nuzzled his arm, then I started to nod off. And after the shit day we had today, I was okay to just sleep on the couch with Ian.

* * *

**_Actual first sentences to_ The Iliad_._

**A/N:**_ Alrighty. There you have it, folks. Nothing knocks off the writing rust quite like fluff.__  
_

_Thanks to all who've read, reviewed, alerted, and favored!  
_


End file.
